HF 5444 
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Copy 1 


THIRTY YEARS 


XJPS AND DOWNS 


COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 


RELATED BY 


VICTOR JACOBS 

CHICAGO, ICC., U. S. A. 


J 










T III R T Y "YEARS 


-OF- 

UPS AND DOWNS 


A Commercial Traveler 


Ills UNAIDED RISE 
TO A PROMINENT 

Chicago Cloak Manufacturer 

AND THE STORY OF HIS FINANCIAL RTJIN 
BY UNPRINCIPLED CHICAGO LAWYERS 


Rixated By 


VICTOR JACOBS 

« 













Copyrighted 1911 

BY' 

Victor Jacobs 
Chicago, III. 





CCI.A280075 


Z->~, !?//. 


CHAPTER I. 

My School Days and Apprenticeship. 

writing down my thirty years’ experiences as a travel¬ 
ing salesman over a good part of the United States, it is 
not from a motive of vanity, nor. with the idea that my 
experiences will interest everybody, that I am attempting 
to write a book. 

The accumulated experiences of many generations gone 
before us are the sum of all wisdom today; in fact, it is 
the experiences of the human race that create all progress 
in civilization. 

If we learn to benefit by mistakes that others have made 
in their lives, we may perhaps avoid making the same mis¬ 
takes, although it is beyond human knowledge to avoid 
making mistakes at all. 

After these few philosophical remarks, by way of intro¬ 
duction, I start in to say, that my birthplace was in a little 
village, on the romantic lake of Constance, in Germany. 
I have the advantage to have been born to poor, but honest 
parents. By advantage, I mean, I was not raised with a 
silver spoon in my mouth. Was taught to work as soon 
as I could perform any work. 

From my sixth to my eleventh year I visited the gram¬ 
mar school of my native village and made the best of the 
small opportunities afforded for education. When there 

— 3 — 



were no more worlds to conquer in the village grammar 
school, I looked around for more education, and went to 
school in a neighboring little town in Switzerland, walking 
five miles of a morning and five miles of an evening to 
obtain that coveted boon of education. 

At the age of fourteen years I had finished the last class 
of the so-called “Real Schule,” and then the question arose, 
What was to become of me? What was I to learn that 
could enable me to make a living? It was not left to my 
choice. My choice would have been a professional career, 
but we have not, in Germany, the facilities and chances of 
this blessed country of ours, which make it easy for an 
ambitious boy in the United States to go through a course 
of college or university. 

In Germany, such an undertaking has to be backed by 
wealthy parents. Hence, after some deliberation, my par¬ 
ents concluded that I might as well be apprenticed to a 
retail dry-goods store, as anything else. 

Consequently, as a boy of fourteen, I left my home and 
traveled to a city about three hundred miles distant, the 
old and well-known town of Heidelberg, in Germany. That 
was in 1872, long after the Civil War in this country had 
been ended, long after millions of money and hundreds of 
thousands of lives had been sacrificed in this country to 
free slaves, who do not thank us for it today; but I went 
into slavery sure enough. 

In the first place, to be an apprentice in those days in 
Germany, meant to work from 6 o’clock in the morning to 
9 o’clock in the evening at any old job, such as dusting off 


— 4 — 


the dry goods, washing out shelves, saving every piece of 
string and piece of paper, and getting off three hours every 
fourth week on a Saturday afternoon. 

I was supposed to be supplied with board, for which a 
moderate sum was charged to me, but very little board 
did I get. I sometimes was so hungry, as a growing boy 
of fifteen or sixteen years, that I was glad to subsist on dry 
bread, which I had to buy surreptitiously from my own 
slender purse, while the boss was not watching my going 
out of the store. 

My room was a garret, directly under the l*oof, where, in 
the summer time, the numerous bedbugs kept me awake; 
in winter time, the only means of keeping warm was to 
crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head. 

After about two and one-half years of this delightful 
occupation, during which time my boss never took the 
trouble of enlightening me about the simplest problems of 
single entry bookkeeping or correspondence, I was asked 
one day, after New Year’s, to get together the accumulated 
letters received during the year. Letter files were unknown 
in those days, in that dry-goods emporium. I separated 
them, alphabetically, and arranged them according to dates, 
and when I had finished the tedious task, the boss found 
fault in the manner in which it was done, because all let¬ 
ters not being the same length and width, the packages 
looked a little uneven, not as though the knife of a book¬ 
binder had cut them. 

The boss was not slow about calling me names and insult¬ 
ing me about it. When I remonstrated that, in the main, 


— 5 — 


the work was done right, he threatened to slap my face, 
but refrained from doing so. Even as a boy I had enough 
spirit and pride not to take anything like that, especially 
as I was working for such a magnificent salary (none at all). 

I bethought myself of the name of a certain attorney 
that might be able to give me some advice. After lunch 
the boss was in the habit of going to the so-called coffee¬ 
house, where the cares of business were laid aside for two, 
three hours, and cards and dominoes. were indulged in, 
instead of business being looked after. Knowing that the 
boss would be away for about three hours, I asked him 
to grant me an hour’s time as I wanted to see that attorney 
(I did not tell him so). He strictly forbade me to leave 
the store, and I replied, that, having some necessary busi¬ 
ness to attend to, and not being able to obtain his permis¬ 
sion to do so, I would go out without his permission. He 
dared me to do so. 

Within a few minutes after my employer had started 
on his daily walk to the Cafe Wachter, I grabbed my hat 
and walked to the Bienen Strasse, where an attorney named 
Furst had his lair—or, rather, where a legal spider was 
waiting for the fly. I told him my story. I told him that 
T, or, rather, my father, had a contract with my employer 
that I should work for him hard for three years from 
6 a. m. until 9 p. m. every day in the year, without inter¬ 
mission, except a respite of three hours every fourth Sat¬ 
urday afternoon, without any remuneration whatsoever, 
being at the same time compelled to pay for the miserable 
board which I didn’t get, and for the miserable lodging 

— 6 — 


which I have described in the preceding pages. I told him 
that I felt my feelings outraged and insulted on account of 
the unparliamentary language which the boss had used 
towards me. I also asked him whether or not such unpar¬ 
liamentary language would give me a justification to break 
my contract without endangering my father of getting into 
a lawsuit. The legal light of the man shone in brilliancy 
when he told me that I could break my contract without 
any danger to my father. “But,” said he, “what do you 
gain by doing so? If you do not finish your apprenticeship, 
where will you get a position as a clerk? Why, you will 
simply have to start the whole thing over again.” I paid 
him the fee he demanded, which was ten gulden (and it was 
every cent in my possession), and I wended my way back 
to the dry-goods store, filled with doubts and misgivings 
as to whether it would be wise or not to quit my job. 

When I arrived at the store, Mr. L. had already returned 
from the Cafe Wachter and was waiting on a customer who 
wanted to buy a dress. When I opened the door he stopped 
his conversation with the customer abruptly, and inquired 
where I had been. I reminded him that, immediately after 
lunch, I had asked his permission to go out, and being unable 
to get his consent, I had gone out without it. He spoke to 
me as follows: “Now go right into the office and put down 
a memorandum that you, on the 5th day of January, 1874, 
against my wishes and without my permission, absented 
yourself from my store for over an hour. I shall remind 
you of this when the proper time arrives, and I shall make 
you a present neither of one day of your apprenticeship, 


— 7 — 


nor of a penny of the fee.” I made no comment on 
these remarks, but simply waited until the customer 
for the dress goods had been successfully waited upon and 
had left the store. Then I said: “Mr. L., I want no pres¬ 
ents, but I shall leave your employ tomorrow” (I was then 
sixteen and a half years old). He asked me whether I 
was making such a statement as a young man of age, or 
whether I had obtained the consent of my father. I had 
to reply in the negative to both questions. I continued to 
work, folding up the dress goods, wrapping them up in 
paper and putting them back in their proper position on 
the shelves, for about two hours more. 

It was about 5 p. m. when Mr. L. beckoned me to follow 
him to the second floor of the building, which was the 
family residence, and extended to me the rare honor to take 
a seat in the parlor. And then he addressed me as follows: 

“My boy, I may have been a little hasty towards you this 
afternoon, still I bear you no ill will. I am entirely pleased 
with you and your services, and, as a substantial proof of 
my good feeling toward you, I herewith promote you to 
being a clerk in the store” (which meant for me the saving 
of another six months’ apprenticeship, and the saving of 
about fifty gulden for board money). He also added: “I 
will pay you for the next coming six months the sum of 
marks 300 per annum,” (which meant $6.25 per month, and 
my excellent board, commented upon heretofore). He also 
held up for me the tempting prospect that, after the six 
months, he would double that royal income for the following 

— 8 — 


year, but I did not want to commit myself for the far-off 
future. 

At any rate, I felt very happy that I had not invested 
those ten gulden, which I had paid to that first shark lawyer 
that I had any dealings with, in vain, and found a balm 
for my wounded feelings and a little compensation for my 
empty pocket. 


— 9 — 


CHAPTER II. 


I Become a Clerk. 

After having succeeded in promoting myself from an 
apprentice to a retail dry-goods clerk, I remained another 
six months with Mr. L., but all along I felt that I had 
reached the limit of business education which I could get 
in his store. I looked for a better opportunity. One day, 
when consulted by the boss about the advisability of buying 
a certain black-and-white striped petticoat material from a 
wholesale dry-goods salesman, I, true to my instinct “never 
to be a knocker,” voted for the purchase of the piece of 
goods. This won for me the good will of the salesman, 
and I found an opportunity to tell him of my longings for 
a larger field of activity. He promised to keep his eyes 
open for a chance for me. 

Sunday afternoon was our harvest day of the week; coun¬ 
try people, after church, came in flocks and droves to 
bargain for a calico dress or material for a petticoat, or 
material for a pair of home-made trousers. 

And what a bargaining and dickering and speech-making 
there was, until I could meet the customers half way between 
the price asked for goods and the price they offered (there 
was no such thing as goods marked in plain figures, or one 
price to all). When finally, by running the scissors across 

— 10 — 


the piece of goods, further arguments about price were cut 
off, then the same thing had to be gone through again with 
the next (perhaps still meaner) customer. 

On one such Sunday afternoon (I had just climbed on 
a rickety six-foot step ladder and loaded about ten pieces 
of the most slick-finished percale on my shoulder, when 
the percales slipped and I was landed on top of the 
percales at the foot of the ladder (without breaking any 
bones), a messenger made his appearance in the store and 
handed me a card from a stranger who wished to see me 
around the corner. (I did not visit saloons in those days, 
although I do now—semi-occasionally.) 

This gentleman was a retail dry-goods merchant from 
Karlsruhe, the capital of my beloved native land of Baden. 
He claimed to have a more pretentious emporium than the 
one I was working in. I.had been recommended to him 
by the aforesaid wholesale dry-goods salesman; he was in 
need of a good office man. 

I was then seventeen years old and felt equal to all re¬ 
quirements, especially as my salary was to be marks 100 
(about $25.00 per month), without any board. I closed 
the trade on the spot and notified my employer of my good 
fortune. 

Was he mad? Well, I guess so! He said a lot about 
black ingratitude and such things, but, when my time was 
up he had to turn me loose, and, be it said in honor of his 
memory, the white streak in him came to the surface at 
parting; he gave me a glorious recommendation, with his 
red seal attached to it, and I still keep that recommendation 
in my jewelry box in the safety deposit vault. 

— 11 — 


I arrived in Carlsruhe at the time when I had promised 
to be there (it was in January, 1875) and entered upon 
my new position as an office man. The first joys that 
greeted me were a set of books, sadly neglected, and about 
six months behind in posting; and then I set to work with 
a vim and a will to send out statements to Mrs. Geheimerath 
and to Mrs. Commercienrath and to various other civil 
and military honoraries of the capital, reminding them that 
under the stress of maintaining their dignity and other 
social duties, they had forgotten to settle for bills five and 
six years past due. At least so it appeared to me from the 
books. 

But no sooner had these dignitaries received the state¬ 
ments than their indignity was aroused to such an extent 
that they betook themselves to the office in a most dis¬ 
agreeable frame of mind, and most of them brought along 
receipted bills for the various amounts I was trying to 
collect. What could I do but apologize? And confess to 
myself my inability to improve the finances of the concern. 
These finances were in very bad shape indeed. The boss 
was owing to a banking house in Frankfort-on-the-Main 
about all they would let him have, and the daily cash re¬ 
ceipts from the store, including pennies and all, had to be 
wrapped up every evening and forwarded by express to 
the banking house. Casually I took a little notice of what 
was going on in the store, and there I saw the finest system 
for ascertaining the cost of goods that I ever saw before 
or since. 


— 12 — 


There was hardly a piece of goods in the house which 
had a ticket or cost mark on it; and in order to arrive at 
the selling price, the sales people would consult the appren¬ 
tice (his name was Schleeweis). The apprentice, with the 
mien of a sage and expert, would close his eyes and run 
his velvety fingers across the surface of the goods, and 
then with a precision and decision inimitable, would tell 
the sales people the exact cost. His judgment was deferred 
to, because he was the oldest employe in the place. 

Once, when looking for a towel in a drawer of the wash- 
stand, I found a nice piece of silk instead of a towel, which 
in the absence of towels had been used for wiping hands. 
The reader might ask, “What was the boss doing ?” Well, 
as far as I recollect, he was generally kept very busy all 
night, playing cards; he made his appearance of a morning 
with hair unkempt and with the air of a man who had not 
been holding winning hands. And then, I think, he slept 
the rest of the day. 

I felt danger lurking in the air; I felt that the way that 
business was conducted it could not last very long, and I 
lost sleep at night in contemplation of the horrible thought 
that the concern might go into bankruptcy while I was 
still one of its employes, and thereby—according to German 
ideas—damage my own fair name and reputation forever. 
I conceived the idea of making another change, and com¬ 
menced to study the “Want Ads” in the papers. Sure 
enough, I came across one that called for the services of 
an assistant bookkeeper in an old-established wholesale house 
in Frankfort-on-the-Main. I applied for the position, and 


— 13 — 


since my hand writing seemed to please the eye of the 
prospective employer, he promptly consented to give me 
the position. But my trouble came when I notified my 
employer at Carlsruhe that I was going to leave. With 
tears in his eyes, he begged me not to leave him just them, 
as he was fully convinced that I was honest and that he 
could trust me. Sympathy got the best of me—I consented 
to stay and thankfully declined the position offered to me 
at Frankfort. 

It was not many days before I realized that I had made 
a mistake, and heedlessly threw away an opportunity to 
get with a better house. What did I do? I wrote again 
to the house in Frankfort, explained why I had declined 
the position before, and inquired whether my services were 
still desired. And right here I had a proof that “virtue 
has its own reward,” because I promptly received a repiy 
that the position was still open, if I could take it within 
the next ten days, which I did. 


— 14 — 


CHAPTER III. 


I Emigrate to the United States. 

I will pass briefly over the period of four years which . 
I spent as a bookkeeper at Frankfort-on-the-Main, from 
1875 to 1879, and merely mention that I started in at a 
salary of $25.00 per month, and, after one year, modestly 
inquired of the boss whether he was satisfied and could 
afford to pay me a little more. For the next month I 
found $37.50 in my pay envelope, which I hurriedly car¬ 
ried to the boss’ desk, calling his attention to his mistake. 
But he said it was all right, and was all meant for me. 

He was really a generous man—one of the best that I 
ever worked for, and I felt so full of gratitude that I never 
again ventured to ask him for another raise. 

At thq end of my fourth year I had a visit from a cousin 
who was domiciled at Galveston, Texas, and established in a 
respectable wholesale clothing business. 

Fie had been traveling for his health in Germany for 
several years, together with his family, consisting of a 
wife and two lovely daughters of the age of eleven and 
twelve years. He was born in the same village where I 
hailed from, had gone to school with my mother, and had 
promised my mother that he would look me up when in 

— 15 — 


Frankfort. I did not dare to give him more than five min¬ 
utes of the boss’ time, so he invited me to call on him at 
a leading hotel, after business hours. In fact, he extended 
to me an invitation to take supper with him and his family. 

I must remark here that, on that momentous occasion, 
I received my first introduction to a beefsteak, and I do 
not think I have eaten any beefsteak since that was as 
good. 

My cousin inquired as to how far I had reached the 
pinnacle of fame in the commercial world, and what were 
my prospects for the future. I told him that I was earning 
the munificent salary of $37.50 per month, and, feeling 
that that was all I could possibly be worth, I had no 
intention of asking for any further raise. He said that 
if I was a pretty fair bookkeeper I could earn twice that 
much in the United States of America. A vista of untold 
wealth opened itself before my eyes, and I promptly accepted 
the offer which he made to me to take me along and to 
employ me as a bookkeeper in his own establishment, just 
as soon as I could overcome the difficulties of the English 
language. 

It didn’t take me a minute to accept the offer. Fortu¬ 
nately, before meeting my cousin and his family, I had 
already tried to make myself acquainted with some of the 
difficulties of the English language. I could read and 
understand it to some extent, though I could speak but 
very little of it. Therefore, I could readily comprehend 
the meaning of the remark made by my cousin’s wife, 
which was: “Sam, I would not take him along,” and upon 

— 16 - 


his inquiring the reason, she said: “I don’t think he is 
strong nor built for any hard work.” I replied in Ger¬ 
man : “I may not look strong, but I can do as much hard 
work as a stronger-looking man.” My cousin’s wife flushed 
at the unexpected discovery of my having some knowledge 
of the English language, and my cousin promptly decided 
to stick to his offer. 

He told me that he intended to sail from Liverpool for 
New York on July 20th, on a Cunarder, the Gallia (then 
a cracker jack boat—since, entirely antiquated) and that 
I could meet him in Liverpool at the date of the sailing 
of the Gallia. On the next day I notified my employer that 
I had struck a bonanza in America, and that I was going to 
leave his employ on July 18th to emigrate to the shores of 
“the land of the free and the home of the brave.” 

My employer did not interpose any objections. Of 
course, I had to notify my parents, and here I must inter¬ 
ject some explanation of what was the primary cause of 
my desire to emigrate to the United States. I have stated, 
in the introductory chapter, that I was born to poor but 
honest parents; that my father was a hard-working man, 
although he never accumulated riches. My father nomi¬ 
nally was in partnership with an older brother, in the cattle- 
business. And while the older brother, while I knew him, 
never did any work, he managed to collect the outstandings 
due to my father, which created somewhat hard feelings 
between my father and my uncle. Not until the unexpected 
death of my uncle did any one of the family know that 
my uncle was not able to work; that he was suffering 

— 17 — 


from a rupture, for which he never consulted a competent 
physician. He had to live, even if he couldn’t work; and 
he had to get money by some means. At one time, when 
he found that he could not collect the outstandings due to 
my father, he took advantage of the prevailing impression 
that he was a partner of my father, and borrowed 3,000 
gulden from the Bank of Constance, for which he gave 
notes, signed Jacobs Brothers. These notes were accepted 
by the bank. After the death of. my uncle, my father 
received one day the unexpected and surprising news from 
the bank that they held notes ■ amounting'ko 3,000 gulden, 
signed Jacobs Brothers, and since the maker of the notes 
—my father’s brother—had left this earthly vale of tears, 
they were compelled to look to my father for the repay¬ 
ment of those notes. 

To say the least, my father was shocked and surprised 
at this announcement, and he did not know how to raise 
the money. It worried him a good deal, and me likewise, 
because if there is any verification of the second command¬ 
ment which contains the sentence, “The sins of the fathers 
shall be visited upon the second, third and fourth genera¬ 
tions,” it is illustrated in Germany in the fact that should 
a father unfortunately have to go into bankruptcy, the 
stigma of it would be visited on his children, grandchil¬ 
dren and great-grandchildren. I realized this, and it was 
my aim to help to avoid such a calamity for my father, and 
the succeeding generations. 

To revert to my cousin’s offer that I should meet him 
in Liverpool on July 20, 1879, 1 wish to say that I undertook 
— 18 — 


the trip to Liverpool, traveling with my scant knowledge 
of the English language via Vlissingen-Queenborough, 
London to Liverpool, stopping over one day in London 
to see, hampered by the difficulty of my limited knowledge 
of the English language, the Albert memorial, Hyde Park, 
Westminster Abbey, Trafalgar Square and Crystal Palace, 
and yet caught the train in time, at Euston Station, to arrive 
on the Midland Road at Liverpool at 7 p. m. When I 
alighted from the train at the Midland Station at Liver¬ 
pool, loaded down with hand baggage, I certainly must 
have looked the picture of the original greenhorn. I did 
not know where to go, nor where to look for my cousin 
and his family. Apparently, they all would have been 
willing for me to forget all about that conversation we had 
in Frankfort, because they never wrote me where to find 
them in Liverpool. An old, military-looking gentleman, 
who was the gate-keeper at the Midland Station in Liver¬ 
pool, and who—as I subsequently ascertained from him, 
served in Napoleon’s Guards in 1848—took notice of me. 
He asked me whither I was bound for (in German). I 
told him that I was looking for a cousin and his family, 
who were to sail on the following morning on the Gallia 
for New York. Pie replied: “Is your cousin a rather 
short man, with black side whiskers, and is he attached 
to a rather stout-looking blonde wife; and has he two 
daughters ?” I replied in the affirmative, and he said: 
“He must have been expecting you; he told me that if 
a young fellow answering your description should arrive 
here, and inquire for him, to direct him to the Adelphi 


— 19 — 


Hotel.” Who was happier than I was, when I knew where 
to find my cousin and his family? I took a cab to the 
Adelphi Hotel, and there was a happy reunion between 
myself and my cousin (the rest of the family was not 
nearly so much overjoyed at my appearance). 

The following day we all got on the tender and rode 
down the River Mersey until we reached the spot where 
the Gallia was anchored, in the Irish Channel. We climbed 
aboard. 

I had previously made up my mind that I was not going 
to be seasick, and my will-power carried me through—I 
wasn’t seasick, because I had too much to do; first, in 
waiting on my cousin’s family, who were all considerably 
seasick; and, second, in using every spare moment for 
studying a little more of the English language, in order 
that I might not arrive in New York quite as green as I 
had arrived in London. The secret of how I managed 
to keep from being seasick, I might put down in these pages, 
but I do not wish to draw the enmity of some physicians, 
who might profit to the extent of five or ten dollars for 
the prescription. 

We landed in New York on August 1, 1879, and noth¬ 
ing appeared more delightful to me, after a non-eventful 
sea voyage of nearly ten days, than the sight of New York 
harbor with the glorious statue of Liberty beckoning her 
welcome to the weary and oppressed from the Old Country. 

It did not take me long to get through the custom house, 
because I didn’t have any more with me than the law 
allowed. My cousin had the kindness to take me along, 

— 20 — 


with his family, to the, in those days, famous boarding 
house, of Mrs. Strauss of Lexington and Fifty-ninth 
Street, and on that evening, at dinner, I made my first 
acquaintance with such to me unknown delicacies, as corn 
on the cob, tomatoes, cantaloupes. I really didn’t know 
what to do with those things, but, by watching others at 
the table, I finally managed to find a place where to put 
them. My cousin called my particular attention to it, 
that only the middle of a cantaloupe could be eaten 
and not the green rinds. 

A few days afterwards my cousin got into an economical 
frame of mind and he reasoned with me that there wasn’t 
any use to pay for my board $15.00 per week at the famous 
Strauss boarding house, when he had a married sister in 
New York for whom he had done quite a few favors (and 
who, by the way, was also a cousin of mine), and he 
thought that Sister Fannie, in consideration of favors re¬ 
ceived in the past from him, could afford to feed me for 
a week or two. I was fed, all right, but it wasn’t 
more than a week before Cousin Fannie commenced to 
become inquisitive, and she asked me three times a day: 
“Cousin Victor, how long are you going to stay here? 
Aren’t you going away soon?” I inferred from these 
questions that my room was more welcome than my pres¬ 
ence, and—oh! how I did long to get away from New 
York! I bethought myself of having a letter of introduc¬ 
tion in my pocket to a bookkeeper who was then employed 
with the then famous old firm—A. T. Stewart. I hied 
myself thither, found Mr. Hafer, presented my letter of 
introduction, and inquired, “Was there any chance for a 


— 21 — 


young man of twenty-one to get a job with A. T. Stew¬ 
art’s, as an errand boy, cash boy, or something. Mr. Hafer 
informed me that A. T. Stewart usually had twice as 
many employes as he had any need of, and he didn’t think 
there was any opening for me. He advised me to go west, 
and by looking at the East River, I got some idea of the 
direction he wanted me to go in, but really I didn’t know 
where to go. I bethought myself of a friend who had 
a retail general merchandise store at .Crockett, Texas— 
his name was Alec Ortlieb. I wrote to him, and I told 
him that I had landed in the great city of New York in 
company of my Cousin Sam and his family, and that, while 
Cousin Sam, no doubt, meant well for me, I felt anxious 
to relieve him of any responsibility for me and that, if he 
had use for a greenhorn from Germany, I should be glad 
to work for him, no matter at what salary. Instead of 
answering direct to me, he returned my letter to Cousin 
Sam, who confronted me with the damning evidence that 
I had tried to get a place for myself without consulting 
him. “This is just like a suspicious Dutchman,” my cousin 
said, “that you think that I could take you along to New 
York, to let you be stranded here, and not to look out for 
you. Do you think that I should have induced you to 
come to the United States if it wasn’t my intention to 
take care of you for the future?” I replied; “Cousin 
Sam, it is very nice of you; I know that I haven’t any 
claim whatever on your friendship, or philanthropy, and 
therefore I tried to develop some of that American spirit 
of ‘help yourself,’ and to find a position for myself, but, 

— 22 — 


of course, if you do not approve of it, I am your servant 
for the rest of my life.” He replied: “The reason why 
we are stopping over here in New York longer than I 
anticipated (because I am anxious myself to get to Gal¬ 
veston, Texas) is, that there is yellow fever reported in 
Galveston, and I dare not go there with my family until 
the weather turfts cooler and the danger of getting yellow 
fever is eliminated.” Said I to Cousin Sam: “I will wait 
until it is cold enough to go to Galveston, and I will stick to 
you. But in the meantime, I cannot possibly stand to be a 
loafer. Please get me something to do, no matter what the 
occupation may be.” He found me a position with a then 
leading clothing manufacturing company of New York, of 
whom he bought $200,000 worth of goods annually. The 
head of the firm, Mr. Chas. Bernheim, merely out of consid¬ 
eration for my cousin and the value of his trade, consented 
to give me a position. This position brought me the munifi¬ 
cent salary of $5.00 per week, and my duties were: to assort 
jean pants in colors and sizes, and make bundles thereof of a 
dozen, and then take three or four of those bundles and load 
them on my shoulder and carry them up six flights of 
stairs, as there were no elevators in that building on Canal 
Street. 

I attended to these arduous duties for five or six weeks, 
patiently, uncomplainingly, until I fell into a reminiscent 
mood. “Why—oh, why!” I said to myself, “did I leave 
my native land of Germany to become a menial in New 
York at the price of $5.00 per week, when I was earning 
nearly $10.00 a week in Frankfort-on-the-Main as a highly 

— 23 — 


respectable bookkeeper ?” These reminiscences weighed on 
my mind until I finally concluded to write a letter to my 
former employer, Mr. Adolph Oplin, a millionaire, at 
Frankfort-on-the-Main, in which letter I explained that, up 
to that time, I had not struck any bonanza in America, that 
I was working at menial labor in New York for the sum 
of $5.00 a week, when I had been getting at his office $10.00 
per week, as an assistant bookkeeper. 

I also described to him the remorse I felt for ever hav¬ 
ing left his employ, and I also inquired whether he could 
forgive my foolishness of ever leaving him, and whether 
he would be willing to employ me again, if I would return 
to Frankfort-on-the-Main. 

He replied in a four-page letter, going into details, that 
it really was my own fault that I had given up a fairly 
remunerative position in his house, without obtaining a 
guarantee that I was really bettering myself, financially, by 
going to the United States. However, he said, he would 
forgive me for that, on account of my youth and inexperi¬ 
ence. He advised me to remember, that many a count 
and duke came to the United States, filled with high expec¬ 
tations and had to become an assistant in a shoe-shining 
parlor, or a dishwasher in a restaurant, before fortune 
smiled upon him. 

He also advised me to try my luck for a few months 
longer in the United States, and to give my fortune a 
chance to smile upon me before again returning to Ger¬ 
many. Should fortune forget to smile upon me, he said. 
I could come back any time, and that, in consideration of 


— 24 — 


the faithful services which I had rendered to him for 
four years, he would manage to find a position for me 
in his establishment at any time. 

This relieved my mind considerably, although I never 
did make use of this generous offer. Be it remarked here, 
that, while I interposed no objection, when my cousin 
paid the passage from Liverpool to New York for me 
on the Cunarder, and, while I even consented, at one time, 
to accept a loan of $5.00 from him, for pocket money, I 
still carried in my inside vest pocket a life preserver, in 
the shape of seventy-five American dollars, to which I 
was holding on, with the idea that, if America and myself 
couldn't get along, I might, with the aid of those $75.00, 
be able to reach the shores of Germany again. 


— 25 — 


CHAPTER IV. 


I Become a Resident of Galveston, Texas. 

At last the day arrived when my cousin notified me to 
get ready to go to Texas; this was towards the end of 
October, 1879. I remember, we took the Piedmont Air 
Line and traveled by the Vandalia, via Indianapolis, Terre 
Haute to St. Louis. We arrived in St. Louis on the even¬ 
ing when a procession of the Veiled Prophets took place. 
The Lindell hotel was, in those days, the only respectable 
hotel in St. Louis, and I do remember that I slept on a 
cot in a hall that night. But, next morning, we resumed 
our journey via the Iron Mountain & Southern to Texas. 
After we had left St. Louis behind us several hundred 
miles, my cousin joined me in the smoking car 
(he was very fond of smoking—too much so), and then 
and there I made this confession to him: “Dear Cousin 
Sam, I have permitted you to advance various sums of 
money for me to defray the expense of the sea voyage 
from Liverpool to New York. I have furthermore ac¬ 
cepted from you a cash loan of $5.00. I have furthermore 
allowed you to buy for me a ticket from New York to 
Galveston, Texas. Will you kindly tell me what is my 
total indebtedness to you?” He wanted to know why I 


—2 G— 


was inquiring. I said: “Dear Cousin, I still carry in my 
inside vest pocket the sum of $75.00, and I wish to make 
to you a payment on account.” My cousin looked at me, 
astonished and surprised. “So you have $75.00 in your 
possession, and still you allowed me to pay for your pass¬ 
age, to loan you $5.00 and to pay for your ticket 
to Texas? Is this not a sign of deceit?” 

“Cousin Sam,” I replied, “I come from Germany, where, 
as a rule, nobody spends a cent on anybody else, unless he 
sees that a dollar is coming back for it. Now, you never 
owed me anything; I never had any claims on you, and I 
thought that, in case you change your mind, after we land 
in New York, and feel like setting me adrift, it would be 
a good idea to have those $75.00 handy and to fall back 
on them for the purpose of getting back to where I came 
from. I am now fully convinced that you mean well for 
me and that you are a real philanthropist. This is why I 
offer you this payment on account.” 

He absolutely refused to accept any money, but advised 
me, as soon as we reached Galveston, Texas, to apply for 
a postoffice money-order for the $75.00, and send same 
home to my mother, who might find good use for it. 

I mention all this to show that, even in America, where 
the axiom prevails “everybody for himself and the devil 
takes the hindmost” there are people, who are entirely 
unselfish and practice philanthropy simply for the satis¬ 
faction which they derive from practicing it. 

The city of Galveston, situated on a sand bank, thirty 
miles long, and only two miles wide at the widest place, 

— 27 — 


seemed a beautiful town to me during the months of 
November, December and January, when snow and ice 
were covering the north, and fragrant orange blossoms per¬ 
fumed the air during the incomparable winter moonlight 
nights. Galveston, while neither attractive from an archi¬ 
tectural point of view, nor from any beauties of nature, sur¬ 
rounding it, always had a peculiar attraction for me. While 
the largest tree I ever saw in Galveston was of stunted 
growth, not exceeding six feet in height (a salt cedar), 
she yet can be called a city of perennial flowers, where the 
oleander bushes bloom for almost twelve months in the 
year, and while a pedestrian, getting off the sidewalk, may 
walk up to his knees in the yellow sand, nevertheless the 
peculiar charm of Galveston is indelible in my mind. 

At one time in September, 1899, the wrath of the Lord 
turned against Galveston; a West Indian cyclone swept the 
sandy island and caused a tidal wave which resulted in 
a loss of 10,000 lives. At that time, I had left Galveston 
about seven years previously, and was really not vitally 
interested in the town, yet when I saw the newspaper 
reports that 10,000 lives had been lost in that tidal wave, 
an unspeakable sadness overcame me. I did not know 
how many of my friends or how many strangers had found 
a watery grave. I still have the newspaper accounts of 
the horrible catastrophe that befell Galveston about Sep¬ 
tember 1, 1899. My heart was moved to such pity, that, 
while by no means a rich man, I wanted to Jo all in my 
power to relieve the sufferings of the stricken' unfortu¬ 
nates of the Island City. 


—28— 


I claim and maintain the honor of having been the first 
one who, after reading of the calamity, wired to the Mayor 
of Houston, Texas, to transmit, for my account, to the 
flood sufferers of Galveston, fifty dollars (all wire connec¬ 
tions were cut off from the Island City at that time). I 
have, in my proud possession, a receipt from the, then 
time, Mayor of Galveston, Mr. Walter Jones, for the 
$50.00 with expressions of thanks for my substantial aid 
and for my sympathy for the stricken community. This 
receipt is framed and is hung in my library. 

I mention these incidents to prove that I was and still 
am in love with Galveston, Texas. Small wonder that I 
was! More lovely, more hospitable people I never met 
in my life than I met in the Island City. She rose, after 
her calamity, like the Phoenix out of the ashes, to greater 
and more substantial growth than she ever enjoyed before, 
because, some of the leading examples of the indomitable 
spirit of “get there” exemplified by the American people in 
general, has been and still are demonstrated, by some of 
Galveston’s leading citizens and merchants. 

To revert to my trip from New York to Galveston and 
to my arrival there, I wish to mention, that I accepted the 
offer of my cousin to board with him and his family, and 
he occupied a very nice residence, and I got a hall 
room of that residence. To show you how good those 
people were to me, one night a fire occurred in Galveston, 
and the best view of it could be gained only through the 
hall room, which I occupied. I was aroused from my slum¬ 
bers about 2 o’clock in the morning when my cousin and 


-29— 


his wife, both in deshabille, wanted to view the fire from 
the window of my hall room. They found me occupying 
my virtuous couch with my daily underwear on, my cousin’s 
wife wondering why I was not wearing an embroidered 
night shirt. Such luxuries had been unknown to me in 
Germany, but promptly, on the following day, my cousin’s 
wife presented me with a half dozen embroidered night 
shirts—some of which I am using still. Such trivial inci¬ 
dents as these I merely mention for the sake of demon¬ 
strating how good my cousin and his wife were to me. 

Besides me there was a nephew of my cousin’s wife 
employed at the wholesale clothing store where I started 
my American career as a merchant, and who was likewise 
a member of the .family. I may say, a preferred member, 
because he was a nephew of the Mrs. while I was merely 
a cousin of the Mr. He did not like me and he intrigued 
against me in every possible way,* and yet—I would today 
not exchange my career for his. 

In the wholesale establishment I worked for six months 
at learning how to dust off coats, pants and vests, how to 
arrange the garments in symmetrical piles, and how to 
select orders. 

All during this time, I industriously applied myself, of an 
evening, after business hours, to acquiring more knowledge 
of the English language and, right here, I wish to give to 
some readers, who might possibly be greenhorns, as I was in 
those days, the benefit of my experiences. I have found,' in 
my case, that the best way for acquiring a knowledge of the 
English language was, the reading of the daily papers, con- 

— 30 — 


taining the everyday business language and discussing the 
topics of the day. Of course, the reader can imagine, that it 
was rather difficult for me to read, with any satisfaction to 
myself, the daily papers, when I was so deficient in my 
vocabulary of the English language. But I overcame this, 
simply by underscoring about every second or third word of 
a sentence that I was reading with pencil marks, and by 
zvriting down such words as I did not know the meaning of. 
This impressed upon my mind the spelling of words, and I 
industriously looked up these words in my German-Eng- 
lish and English-German dictionary and ascertained their 
meaning, because, while this did not guarantee my correct 
pronunciation, I would always find some one who would 
pronounce for me the words which I could not myself 
pronounce correctly. Now here is a hint as to how to 
acquire the knowledge of a foreign language, and while 
it cost me a great deal of pain and labor how to find it out, 
the reader of this book gets his information gratis. Within 
six months after I had arrived in Galveston, Texas, I was 
a fairly fluent speaker and reader of the English language. 


—31— 


I 


CHAPTER V. 

I Become a Traveling Salesman. 

About that time it occurred that a salesman in the house 
for which I was working, and who traveled in a section 
of the country principally inhabited by Germans and Bo¬ 
hemians, met with an accident on one of his trips, broke 
his leg and was unable to ply his accustomed avocation. 
The trade in that district was valuable to the house and 
could not be neglected; a partner of the firm, who realized 
that I had a thorough knowledge of the German language 
and a fair knowledge of the English tongue, proposed to 
me, that I should cover the usual route of the salesman who 
had broken his leg. I had learned enough during my six 
months’ stay in America to realize, that the limit of ambi¬ 
tion for a bookkeeper was about $100.00 to $125.00 per 
month, while the value of a good salesman was without 
limit. I greedily accepted the opportunity to become a 
salesman, although my ambitions were opposed to by my 
own cousin, who was the head of the firm. He thought 
that my general greenness, my short size and stature, and 
several other things were against any chances of success 
for me. His strenuous opposition was overcome by the 
guarantee of his partner that he would come up for any 
loss resulting to the firm by giving me a chance to go on 
the road. 


—32— 


And this is how I was launched as a traveling salesman. 
I was started out with four sample trunks of clothing, 
which, with my present knowledge of the line, would look 
so abominable to me-, that I wouldn't have given an order 
to myself if I had called on myself, and right here I want 
to remark to any salesman who reads these lines that, to be 
a successful salesman, you either want to know the last 
detail about your line, the manufacture, construction and 
origin of your goods, the cost and value, etc., or you want 
to be entirely ignorant about everything. The more igno¬ 
rant you are, the more innocent you will he. You will 
sell your goods at the prices at which they are marked 
(providing you are ignorant) without the slightest qualms 
of conscience, because you will actually believe that your 
firm is charging the right price; that you are not over¬ 
charging your customer and that they are doing the fair 
thing all around. 

This, of course, holds good only as long as you do not 
meet any aggressive competition. As long as your cus¬ 
tomer thinks that he is buying at the right price and as 
long as he can charge a satisfactory margin on top of the 
price at which you sell goods to him, everything is lovely 
and the goose hangs high. I had an illustration of this 
in this way—I had a customer at Alvarado, Texas, Mr. 
Engelmann, who loyally stuck to me for several years. 
After a while salesmen for New York clothing manufac¬ 
turers began to call on him. One particularly smart sales¬ 
man from New York who called on my friend, Mr. Engel¬ 
mann, inquired of him one day about the price of a par- 

— 33 — 


ticular pair of pantaloons and wanted to know what my 
friend Engelmann was paying for same. He told him that 
he was buying them from me at $4.50 a pair and was selling 
them at $6.50 a pair. Here the New York salesman saw his 
chance to impress my customer with the fact that he, my 1 
customer, did not know anything at all about the value of 
goods and was paying me entirely too much for those panta¬ 
loons. The New York salesman was in a position to offer 
him those identical pantaloons for which my friend Engle- 
mann was paying $4.50 at $3.75. Now here comes an illus¬ 
tration of the loyalty of customers in Texas, thirty years 
ago, because my friend Engelmann replied: ‘‘Mr. Millheiser; 
I cannot see where I would gain anything by buying from 
you, because, if I buy these pantaloons from you at $3.75 I 
would be retailing them at $5.00 a pair, Avhile, if I buy 
them from my friend Jacobs and pay him $4.50 a pair I 
will get $6.50 at retail for them. Now you see, if I buy 
from you, I will only make $1.25 on a pair, while if I buy 
from my friend Jacobs, I will be making $2.00 on a pair, so 
you see there is no use for you to try to sell me goods. 
Oh, how I wish those good old days would be back again! 

Speaking about my early experiences, in general, as a 
salesman in Texas, I wish to say that my first stop was 
at a little town, Belleville, Austin County, Texas, where 
I managed to sell some goods, and from which point I had 
to start out on a team trip, this means, I had to hire a 
driver, a wagon and a pair of mules to carry me and my 
four clothing trunks through the highways and byways 
off the railroad. There was no livery stable in the town 
— 34 — 




of Belleville, but, by chance, I leafned that a young man 
by the name of Gus Miller, whose father was a wealthy 
merchant, with whom Gus had managed to fall out, was 
the possessor of a wagon and a good pair of mules, and 
said Gus Miller, although married and having a family, was 
temporarily out of a job. I came to an understanding 
with Gus to have him drive me and my four trunks, for 
several weeks, through the counties of southern Texas, 
comprising the so-called German settlements. With ambi¬ 
tion unlimited and with the idea before my mind that I must 
succeed and make some sales, I managed to send into 
the house, during a three weeks’ trip, about fifty orders. 
It was a filling-in season, in November, and while the orders 
were not large, they all attested to my ambition and in¬ 
dustry. The result of all this was: it sealed my doom, 
I became permanently a traveling salesman, which I have 
been ever since, which I am still, and I look forward to 
being a traveling salesman when I die. I wish to inter¬ 
ject just a few reminiscences of my career as a traveling 
clothing salesman in Texas during the period of 1880 to 
1884. For instance, this one: 

One night, it was in the month of December, when the 
days are short and nights are long, I started out from a 
place named Industry, Texas, at about 4 o’clock in the 
afternoon, on a wagon loaded with four trunks and pro¬ 
pelled by a pair of lean mules, to reach a country store, 
situated about six miles south of Industry. The weather 
was chilly, the lanes were very muddy, and I reached the 
country store of a Mr. Carmichael about 6 p. m. The 
— 35 — 


little shanty, called a store, was closed and everything 
was in darkness—no house or dwelling place was in sight. 
I climbed on top of the wagon and, in the distance, I spied 
a light. I suggested to the colored driver to make for the 
light. We arrived at the foot of a very narrow lane, where 
the mud was soft enough and deep enough to make the 
wagon wheels sink to the axle. The driver suggested that, 
on account of the narrowness of the lane, in which it would 
be impossible to turn the wagon, he would walk up towards 
that light, and if he could ascertain that Mr. Carmichael 
lived in the place where the light was burning, he would sig¬ 
nal to me by a loud tone of voice to follow him with the 
wagon and team. I had my serious objections to this propo¬ 
sition, because I figured that, even if the place where the 
light shone from was the dwelling of Mr. Carmichael, and 
even if I received the summons to drive on towards the 
spot where the light shone, this, eventually, was to be con¬ 
sidered that, in the dark of the night, I might strike a 
bad place in the road, overturn the wagon, break some¬ 
thing and would have to come up for repairs. Therefore 
I made a counter proposition, which was, that the driver 
should stop at the mouth of the lane, that I would walk 
toward the light and ascertain whether or not there was 
a chance to camp at that place for that night, and if there 
was, I was to signal the driver to follow my lead. I 
walked for about a mile towards the light, reached the house, 
inclosed by a so-called worm fence made of cedar rails, and 
found the gate open. I screamed at the top of my voice the 
usual Texas hello, but, not receiving any answer, walked in 

— 36 — 


through the gate, which I found open. No sooner had I 
entered the gate than two great big yellow mastiffs jumped 
at me with a howl. Now, while I have never been afraid 
neither of man, nor the devil, I have always been in mortal 
fear of dogs. What could I do under the circumstances? 
I retreated to the fence, picked up a fence rail and swung it 
around me to keep off the big yellow mastiffs. The more I 
did so the more furious became the brutes, and when I had 
succeeded to chase off one from my right leg, the other 
one was snapping at my left leg. I called for help with all 
my might but, as luck would have it, my calls were un¬ 
heeded. Finally a man stepped out on the porch to get 
a drink of water (in Texas the water bucket is always 
hanging on the porch). He called to the dogs—“hush,” and 
they subsided for a moment in their barking. I managed 
to say: “Mr. Carmichael, please call off your dogs,” which 
he did, and then I asked him whether I could stop at his 
house for the night, to which he hospitably assented; but, 
from the fright, which I had experienced, I was so hoarse 
that I was unable to talk above a whisper for two days. 


37— 


CHAPTER VL 


Some More Hardships. 

In the preceding chapter I have referred, while recount¬ 
ing my reminiscences as a traveling salesman in Texas, to 
a little episode about a fight with dogs. To complete this 
chapter I have to add that, on the morning following the 
horrible night when I was trying to fight two big yellow 
mastiffs, single handed, and with a fence rail, and after 
having had breakfast, I endeavored to sell to Mr. Car¬ 
michael some clothing. The driver helped me to unload 
my trunks in front of the store. I found that the door was 
built without any regard to the size of my trunks, and I 
could not get my trunks inside. But even at that early stage 
of my career, little things like that could not knock me out. 
“Where there is a will, there is a way.” After some delib¬ 
eration Mr. Carmichael and myself came to the conclusion 
to roll out two flour barrels from the store and, with the aid 
of a shutter, to make a counter in front of the store. Then 
I proceeded to open my trunks and to show my samples in 
this improvised open-air sample room, and, after an hour’s 
work, was the lucky possessor of an order from Mr. Car¬ 
michael for about $150 worth of overalls, jean pants, etc. 

I can always look back with a good conscience on those 
old days, because I never sold to my customers anything 
that they could get stuck on. Overalls and jeans pants were 
as staple as wheat, and one reason why I didn’t sell him 
anything else on that trip is, because he wouldn’t buy it. 

-38- 


Let me recount one or two more little experiences of 
my early travels in Texas while I was making wagon trips 
for the jobbing house in Galveston, Texas. 

One day I received, at Beeville, Texas, from the office 
man of the firm, a route list, directing me to visit the town 
of Mineral City. I had never heard of it, neither could 
I find it on the map, but, by diligent inquiry, I ascertained 
that this city was situated at a distance of about forty-five 
miles from Beeville. I started out from Beeville at sun¬ 
rise and, on my wagon, propelled by two light bronchos, 
I traveled over sandy prairie, where not a shade tree 
relieved the monotony of the scenery for miles and miles, 
from 6 a. m. until 5 p. m., without meeting a human being, 
or even an animal. At last, about 5 p. m., I landed in front 
of a little shanty, constructed of some rough boards and 
containing one single living room with an attachment serv¬ 
ing for the purpose of a kitchen. I took it to be a human 
habitation, and raised my voice to sound the customary 
Texas “hello:” A gentleman opened the door, and upon 
inquiry I learned that I was still fifteen miles distant from 
that metropolis, Mineral City. The ranchman who lived 
there assured me that I could not possibly lose my way 
to Mineral City, because all I had to do was to travel a 
couple of miles until I reached a pasture gate; after enter¬ 
ing which gate I was to travel another twelve miles until 
I reached another pasture gate, after passing which I 
would be in sight of Mineral City. On and on I traveled, 
on the farm wagon, loaded with four heavy trunks, pro¬ 
pelled by two very tired little bronchos, driven by a yel- 

— 39 — 


low-colored gentleman; at last darkness overtook us; one 
of those sudden changes of temperature so common in 
Texas in the winter time took place. Texas has the de¬ 
lightful climatic advantage that, at one minute you may 
be perspiring and going about in your shirt sleeves, and 
within a few minutes thereafter, you may be closely hug¬ 
ging your overcoat, and yet may be shivering. This was 
one of the occasions when, unexpectedly, a rain commenced 
to pour, which froze as fast as it was falling, and which 
turned my overcoat into a garment as stiff as a board. 
The night was pitch dark. It was impossible to see my 
hand before my eyes, much less was it possible to see the 
road I was traveling on. Finally I requested my mulatto 
driver to step down from the wagon, to light a match and 
to find out whether I was really traveling on a road at all, 
or simply on an ocean of prairie grass. He reported that 
neither tracks nor road were visible. After some con¬ 
sultation we concluded to trust to our horses having more 
sense than we had, turned them around and let them find 
the way back to the little shanty we had passed several 
hours previous. 

We brought up there about 9 o’clock in the evening, 
hailed the ranchman living there, and told him that we 
had lost the way to Mineral City, and would be thankful 
for shelter for that night. He called my attention to it 
that his hotel accommodations were extremely limited, and 
that he could not offer me very much in the way of lux¬ 
uries and comfort, yet he would not permit pie to be with¬ 
out shelter for that cold night. 


—40— 


I accepted his invitation to come inside, sat down in 
front of the chimney fire, thawed out the front of my 
overcoat, while still freezing in the back. The lady of 
the house inquired if I had had any supper. Remember¬ 
ing that I had supper the day before, I said, “yes,” not 
wishing to put her to the trouble to prepare supper for 
me at such-a late hour, because, as a rule, when supper 
is finished at a farm house or at a ranch house in Texas, 
it means that there is not a crumb left for anybody arriving 
after the meal hour. 

The time arrived for retiring. In the one living room 
which, by the way, simply had a shingle roof without any 
ceiling, there were two beds; one was to be occupied by 
the husband and wife, and the other was intended for 
their three boys, ranging in ages from eight to twelve 
years. But “necessity is the mother of invention;” the 
one bed did service for four; in the middle of the bed I 
prepared to rest my weary bones, on either side of me 
was one of the boys, and at the foot end was the youngest 
one, keeping our feet warm. 

After these preparations, the ranchman came in and 
retired, blew out the oil lamp, and then while darkness 
was preventing me from seeing any of the mysteries of it, 
the lady of the house retired. 

In peaceful slumber, I forgot all my troubles, until, day¬ 
light arrived. But then my new troubles commenced. It 
was a winter day, when daylight does not come so early, 
and according to my watch 7 o’clock had arrived and no 
one had yet made any move to get breakfast. I knew 

— 41 — 


that I couldn’t linger all day on that delightful couch 
which I was sharing with the three boys, and in sheer 
desperation I jumped out of bed, grabbed my pantaloons 
and other clothing and hied myself to the kitchen to begin 
my morning’s toilet. This gave an opportunity to the 
lady of the house to arise and attend to her toilet. About 
8 o’clock we had breakfast, consisting of steaming hot 
black coffee and corn dodger (the chief ingredients of 
which are cornmeal and water). It was a highly satis¬ 
factory meal to me after having gone without supper the 
night before. 

Towards 9 o’clock my mulatto driver and myself got 
started on the way to Mineral City. We finally arrived 
there about 11a. m. Imagine my surprise when, instead of 
a metropolis, as I expected to find there, I only found two 
little 10x10 shanties which were called stores, and each 
of which contained about $50.00 worth of antiquated 
canned goods and other groceries, and by full count I 
found the population of the town to be about ten inhab¬ 
itants, all of whom had gathered around a little wood fire, 
built on a little public square, for the general benefit of 
the whole community. 

The reader can readily imagine that I did not try to make 
any wholesale sales of clothing in that town of Mineral 
City. Instead, I traveled on, southward, towards the town 
of Corpus Christi, on the Gulf of Mexico. The road was 
over miles and miles of prairie land, occupied mostly by 
grazing cattle, very sparsely inhabited. On the way, I 
stopped at the little town of Oakville* 


—42— 


So almost primeval was some of the country around 
there, in the early 80’s, that one morning I saw a whole 
family of deer drinking at a creek I had to cross, and they 
did not seem at all concerned about me, until I was within 
about fifty yards of them. I never had the “sporting 
instinct,” never carried a gun and consider it today a wanton 
butchery and a manifestation of the “murderous instinct” to 
shoot inoffensive animals, simply for “the sport,” or for the 
small gain to be derived from the sale of their skin or meat. 

It was in the month of November when I made this trip; 
the weather was delightful in Southwestern Texas; bright, 
clear sunshine every day, such as we have in the Middle 
States during our “Indian Summer.” Mornings and nights 
were chilly. In those nights the mighty “Nimrods” in 
Southern Texas would go turkey-hunting, while the wild 
turkeys were roosting in the groves of live-oak trees. I 
have seen wagon loads of turkeys brought in of a November 
morning, into the town of Oakville, and since they were no 
rare delicacy to the townspeople, few cared to buy them; 
most of them were given away. 

At Oakville I did some business. I had to open my 
samples in the front parlor of the old stone hotel, and 
finding it hard to open the green Venetian shutters, which 
were keeping out the sunlight and which, apparently, had 
not been opened in a year, I called to my mulatto driver to 
go to the kitchen for a hatchet. The driver, a rather lazy 
fellow, thought that the butt-end of a gun, standing in a 
corner of the room, would serve as well. I cautioned him 
that it might be loaded; he opened the breech, took out sev¬ 
eral cartridges and then began to butt the shutters. 

— 43 — 


I Was standing behind him, watching the operation, the 
barrel of the gun raised a few inches above my head, when 
suddenly there was a loud report. The “unloaded” gun 
had done it, had gone off; a ball flattened on a beam of the 
oak ceiling and fell to the floor. I carried the ball for a 
long time as a memento that I must have a “charmed” (if 
not a charming) life. 

From Oakville, Texas, I traveled on to Aransas Pass;] 
from there to Corpus Christi. There is an expanse of 
water of three miles, which is called the Aransas Passj 
Reef. It is a road concealed by the waters of the Pass, i 
and built of oyster shells and has a width of about four 
feet. To guide the unwary traveler, stakes are driven into 
this road about fifty feet apart, bearing the legend, “Keep 
to the right, or keep to the left.” Should the traveler heed- 
lessly not obey those instructions, down he goes from the 
road made of oyster shells, into unfathomable mud and 
water. 

When I got about half way on that road and looked for¬ 
ward and backward, I verily felt like a mariner traveling' 
in mid-ocean in an antiquated hack, propelled by Iwo anti¬ 
quated ponies, as no shore was visible on either side. I 
finally, brought up at the Sands of the shore of Corpus 
Christi Bay, and glad I was to have something like terra 
firma under my wagon wheels again. 

I repaired to the St. James Hotel, where the incom¬ 
parable hotel keeper, Mr. Giuseppe Biggio, attended to the 
wants of weary travelers. I had a good meal, consisting of 
clam chowder, baked red snapper and several other deli¬ 
cacies, and then I commenced to look around in the town 
for unsuspecting victims to whom I might sell some of my 
famous clothing. I found Mr. Lichstenstein ready to give 
me a chance. I also found Mr. Julius Henrv, who was also 
ready to give me a little order. I also found Messrs. Gug¬ 
genheim & Cohen willing to buy some goods from me, pro¬ 
viding I would give them the privilege of making the prices. 

— 44 — 




CHAPTER VII. 

How I got a “Black Eye.’ 

When I got through canvassing the town of Corpus 
Christi I took a train on the Ferro Caril Nacional de 
Mexico, which connects the town of Corpus Christi with 
Laredo, Texas, a distance of 150 miles. This train, thirty 
years ago, required twelve hours’ time to cover the distance. 
One reason for this was that the railroad company did not 
care to spend any money for coal and every once in a 
while the engineer, fireman, brakeman and conductor had 
to stop, pull off their coats, and go to work, with a vigor 
unusual in that part of the country, to cut some wood from 
the mesquite chaparal to wood up the engine. My first 
stop was San Diego, Texas, where Senor Torribio Guerra 
and Gueydan Bros. (French merchants from New Orleans) 
were my customers. With these people, the quality of 
goods never was found any fault with, as long as the price 
was cheap enough. Their business was principally done 
with Mexican sheep herders, whose monthly income in 
those days was $15.00 in Mexican money, equal to about 
$7.50 in American money. They were very frugal people, 
those sheep herders, and, no doubt, they had to be, when 
a ten-cent piece has to serve for the purchase of four dif¬ 
ferent articles at a store. Often I have watched them 


—45— 


buying, for a ten-cent piece (which in Spanish is called a 
real, and which is subdivided into medios and quartidos)* 
the following four articles: Lard, shell corn, beans, andj 
red pepper, which were the principal ingredients of their 
meals. The shell corn was crushed between two 
stones, and the coarse meal gained by that process 
for making tortillas, which is a kind of a corn cake. I have! 
been told that the flavor of these corn cakes is improved by] 
the cook spitting in his hands while handling the dough 
and before slapping the dough on a hot stone to bake it. 
The red pepper and beans is a daily diet with a Mexican, 
On special occasions they have carnero, or goat meat, 
which, with plenty of seasoning of the red pepper, or chili, 
as it is called, constitutes the finest delicacy on a Mexican! 
menu. The Mexican sheep herder wears the year around] 
a pair of linen pants, a coarse cotton shirt (no underwear),] 
a large sombrero, or sugar-loaf hat, and, when the tempera-1 
ture gets chilly in the winter time, he throws a blanket* 
over his shoulders. At most any time he takes life easy! 
just as long as he does not run out of his supply of corn] 
shucks and smoking tobacco, wherewith to make the indis-1 
pensable cigarette. If times get a little hard with him he’ 
uses the so-called bandana (a sash which takes the place ! 
of suspenders), pulls it a few notches tighter, and thereby 
kills any revolution threatened by his stomach when it 
has not been fed. After these few side remarks about 
the population of the country, I must describe a little adven-l 
ture I had with a livery stable man at San Diego, Texas.] 
- 46 - 


rough 

served 



I hired from him a hack and two ponies, and also a 
young man, as a driver, to carry me to La Concepcion, an 
insignificant little village, situated twenty-seven miles south 
from San Diego, off the railroad. It was a level prairie 
road, and, while I had three trunks in the hack, the dis¬ 
tance could have been covered in four to five hours. I 
started from San Diego at 6 a. m., and about 10 a. m. we 
stopped in front of the first ranchman’s house we met, 
inquired whether or not we were on the right road to La 
Concepcion, and were informed, by the ranchman, that we 
had to drive back a distance of about five miles, where 
the road forked, and where we had to take the right-hand 
road instead of the left-hand. After this delay we landed 
at Concepcion about 1 o’clock p. m. My friend and cus¬ 
tomer, a fine old bachelor by the name of Isaac Levy, who 
had kept store there for years, gave me a good dinner, 
including a bottle of French claret, and, within an hour, 
bought of me about $700.00 worth of cheap pantaloons, 
overalls and men’s underwear. I was packed up again 
by 3 o’clock, but it was a very hot July afternoon, and I 
suggested to my driver to wait an hour before starting 
back, until the sun was not shining quite so hot. We r left 
the place at 4 o’clock, and drove on until about 9 o’clock 
that night, when we brought up at a railroad station, Bena¬ 
vides, fifteen miles west of San Diego. Nobody but some 
poor Mexicans were living there. No hotel, no chance 
to buy anything to eat, and I had to wait at the station 
until 6 o’clock the following morning (sleeping on the soft 
side of my trunks), when the train came along to take 

— 47 — 


me back to San Diego. To the driver, who spoke a little i 
Spanish, I handed $10.00 for team hire, and several dol-! 
lars to buy feed for the horses, and, if possible, to find! 
some quarters where he could stay over night. I advised 
him not to drive back that night to San Diego, as I con-j 
sidered that the poor bronchos had done about all the j 
traveling they could stand for that day. At about 8 o’clock = 
in the morning the train which carried me and my trunks] 
pulled into the station at San Diego, where about a half 5 
hour was consumed in switching freight cars. I stepped outj 
on the platform, clad in my linen duster and traveling cap, 
and met Mr. Shaw, the livery man of whom I had hired the ' 
team. I told him of the unpleasantness I had on account of: 
the inexperience of his driver. He replied the driver and the 
team had returned at 3 in the morning, the driver claiming! 
that I had not given him any money to feed the horses and l 
to find a stopping place for the night. I told him that ] 
the driver was lying, but he would not believe me, and I 
demanded $10.00 more, which I paid to him under pro- : 
test. He then commenced to swear and to curse me, and 
when I remonstrated against such behavior, he struck me 
in the eye with a pair of knuckles while his brother pinned 
my arms from behind to deprive me of any chance of de¬ 
fending myself. My eye was a beautiful sight. Just then 
the train whistled, and as all my belongings were on that 
train, I jumped on, vowing vengeance to my two assailants. 

After I got on the train I hunted up the most secluded 
corner in the smoking car, folding my handkerchief over 
my wounded eye and feeling pretty blue about the unde- 


— 48 — 


served treatment I had received at the hands of the 
liveryman at San Diego. Presently I was joined by an 
elderly gentleman, who started a conversation with me by 
inquiring, “Where did you get that black eye?” I replied 
that I was indebted for it to Mr. Shaw at San Diego, and 
told him the rest of the story, expressing the intention to 
return to San Diego on the next train and to make it my 
business to have Mr. Shaw and his brother arrested for 
the unjustifiable assault. The elderly gentleman introduced 
himself to me as Captain Richard King, the famous owner 
of the Santa Gertrudis ranch, which comprises an area of 
over two counties, probably one million acres. Cap¬ 
tain King’s wealth in land and cattle was in those days esti¬ 
mated at about five million dollars. These figures mean a 
valuation of from 50c to $1.00 per acre and of $5.00 a 
head for the cattle. Today a good deal of the same land 
is being irrigated and cultivated for fruit and vegetable 
land and is worth from two to three hundred dollars an 
acre. Captain King advised me not to return to San Diego; 
not to have my assailants arrested. He told me that there 
were six brothers, all desperadoes, in the same family, and 
that to fight one meant to fight them all. He also told 
me that, while he himself had the reputation of being a 
good fighter and of being afraid of nothing, he preferred 
to let these same brothers steal his horses, mules, etc., with¬ 
out attempting to prosecute them, because, if he succeeded 
in the conviction of them, the sheriff would not be able to 
put them in jail. He inquired about my business, and then 
I told him that I was a clothing salesman. He advised me 


— 49 — 


to come along with him to Corpus Christi, where he had 
to stop over and where he would look over my samples, 
as he kept a supply store on his ranch for the wants of the 
cowboys. He did place an order with me for about $800.00, 
which, in connection with some raw meat, which I applied 
to my eye, went a good ways towards removing the pain 
from my eye, but it took two weeks before the black marks 
disappeared, and it required many explanations to inquiring 
customers who wanted to know how I got that black eye. 
In justice to Mr. Shaw, the liveryman at San Diego, I must 
add, that, within about six months later, Mr. Shaw discov¬ 
ered that the boy who drove me to La Concepcion had lied 
to him; Shaw apologized to me and thereafter, when I came 
to San Diego, he dead-headed me for bus fare and baggage 
transfer. 

I must also say that, quite recently I visited the town of 
Corpus Christie, Texas, after an absence of about twenty- 
five years, and, accidentally met a brother of Mr. Shaw. 
He remembered my little unpleasantness of twenty-five 
years ago, and, as a token of good, feeling and friendship, 
he presented me with a fine pair of buck horns, which now 
serve to hang clothes on. 

This shows, that, while men may sometimes let their 
temper get away with them, there is good in every man. 

Another little incident occurs to my mind that happened 
to me in the town of Pearsall, Frio County, Texas. I was 
stopping there at the Sanders Hotel, opened my samples 
in the little front room which served as a parlor, but when 
I looked for a key, to lock the door, it could not be found. 


— 50 — 


I told the proprietor that my samples were valuable and 
were unprotected, since the door could not be locked. He 
assured me that everybody about the place was honest and 
that I would find nothing missing. 

I made a call on one customer, took him over to the 
hotel, showed him through and sold him, and then I made 
my call on the next customer. I was anxious to show him 
a new article which I had just received, and which I had 
shown a few minutes before to my first customer, but all 
search for it proved unavailing—it had disappeared. I 
must mention that, when I returned with the second cus¬ 
tomer, I found the porter of the hotel in the sample 
room, busying himself with my samples. I told him that 
he should have waited for my invitation before coming 
into the room, and he walked out. Naturally my suspicion 
as to who had stolen the missing articles fell on the porter. 
I asked my customer to excuse me as I was going to begin 
an immediate investigation. Without any hesitancy I accused 
the porter of having stolen two coats. He stoutly denied 
the accusation and dared me to prove it; even offered 
that I could look through his trunk where he kept his own 
clothing. I went through it but, of course, found nothing 
belonging to me. However, I discovered a coat which 
I knew had originally been a traveling man’s sample. A 
red string which fastens the price ticket to a button was 
still hanging on the button and, in the effort to tear loose 
the price ticket, the button had been partly torn off. This 
confirmed my suspicion. I was not so much concerned 
in the value of the two garments, which was only about 
$20.00, as in the fact, that it would be at least ten days 

— 51 — 


before I could get new samples from New York (I was 
at that time traveling for a New York house) and that 
many sales would be lost to me during the time that I had 
no duplicate samples. Several of my friends, when they 
heard of my mishap, became enraged at the porter and 
threatened to hang him if he didn’t give up what he had 
stolen. He still asserted his innocence, and I asked my 
friends to leave the matter in my hands. I talked with 
the man privately, explained to him what inconvenience 
he was causing me, and promised him, if he would give 
up my property, I would tell my friends that I had found 
it mixed up with my other samples. He finally confessed 
and told me that he had taken the goods to a place about a 
mile distant from town and would return same to me after 
dark when nobody would be watching him. About 9 o’clock 
that night he came to me, telling me that he was going 
to leave the town and that I should follow him to the 
place where the goods were hidden. I followed him, never 
dreaming that I was exposing myself to danger. We 
walked about a mile down the railroad track, and he pulled 
from under a mesquite-bush my two coats and handed 
them to me. I gave him a couple of dollars; he was going 
to walk to the next railroad station, and I admonished 
him to try and be honest in the future. By that time the 
hotel man and some of my friends had become uneasy 
about my absence and followed me on horseback, and, as 
they told me, had fully expected to find me killed; still 
I wasn’t. This last incident happened after I had com¬ 
menced to travel for a leading clothing manufacturing 
house of New York. 


— 52 — 


CHAPTER VIII. 


I Become a New York Salesman 

I must mention here how I came to give up my position 
in Galveston and changed to New York. When I first 
started to travel in Texas I met with but very little com¬ 
petition in my line, from New York, but gradually New 
York houses commenced to send their salesmen to Texas, 
and there was such an enormous difference between prices 
charged by the jobbing houses in Galveston and those of 
the New York manufacturers, that I soon recognized the 
hopelessness of trying to compete against them. One day 
I traveled from Gonzales, Texas, to Hallettsville, Texas, a 
distance of forty miles, by wagon. I had four horses and a 
driver and yet did not arrive at my destination until late at 
night. 

I learned from the hotel man that a New York com¬ 
petitor, a Mr. Rosenfield, had canvassed the town for 
two days. Hence I expected to find but little left for me. 
Towards 4 o’clock in the morning I was awakened by 
the noise of sample trunks being loaded into a wagon, 
and soon ascertained that my competitor was stealing a 
march on me for the next town. I got up, awoke my 
driver and told him of the urgency to keep up with my 
competitor. He finally got ready to hitch up the horses, 


— 53 — 


but soon informed me, that one of the horses was lame 
and that he couldn’t drive. Unfortunately, there was, on 
that day, at Hallettsville, a German Schuetzenfest, and 
every horse, in every livery stable, was engaged. I learned 
that a Bohemian farmer was the owner of several horses, 
and that I might be able to hire one from him. He lived 
about two miles distant from town. I walked there, found 
him feeding his horses, and told him of my troubles. He 
advised me to wait until the horse I wanted had finished 
his breakfast, but I could not wait. I could not ride 
horseback so I had to lead the horse by a rope, and very 
reluctant he was to leave the corn crib. I tried to impress 
the horse with my hurry by slapping him several times 
with the end of the rope, after which I had a great time 
to keep up with the horse. 

At last I landed with the horse in front of the Linden- 
berg Hotel, found my driver and told him of my good for¬ 
tune that I had succeeded in getting another horse, with¬ 
out, like that famous English king, offering my kingdom 
for it. The driver, in the meantime, had taken the harnesses 
off from the other three horses, which were not lame, and, 
when he saw the fresh horse, declared he would not drive 
me that day, anyhow. I inquired for his reason. He 
stated that he had been driving all day yesterday, and that 
was enough for him, for awhile. I told him that I had 
kept him company, and nevertheless, was willing to do 
another day’s work. Nothing could persuade the obstrep¬ 
erous cowboy to load my trunks and start for the race 
to catch up with Mr. Rosenfield. Seeing that I could not 

— 54 — 


do anything with him, I went back to the farmer where 
I got the one horse, induced him to hitch up his farm 
wagon and come along with three more horses. By 8 
o’clock we were ready to start, the farmer consenting to 
be my driver. Before leaving Hallettsville I wanted to 
settle with the striking cowboy. I wanted to pay him for 
the day he drove me and for the day which would be 
consumed in his returning to Gonzales, and also offered 
him $4.00 expense money on the way. He refused to 
accept this money as he was going to remain at Halletts¬ 
ville until the lame horse got well. I could not see it that 
way, as I had no means of knowing how long it would 
take, nor did I think that the lame horse had any business 
to be so, at my expense. I called the landlord of the hotel 
as a witness that I offered a fair settlement to the cow¬ 
boy, and that he had refused to accept it and threatened to 
whip me. Just then I spied the town marshal, Dan Price, 
told him to keep an eye on that cowboy until I could get out 
of town. Mr. Price admonished the cowboy to cool his tem¬ 
per, otherwise he would land him in the cooler. I mailed a 
check to the livery man at Gonzales, with a letter of explana¬ 
tion, why I had to dispense with the services of his team and 
driver, and started with Farmer Ermiss on the wagon loaded 
with six clothing trunks for Antioch, ten miles distant from 
Hallettsville. We both had to sit on a trunk, as there was 
no room for a wagon seat left. Helter-skelter, we drove 
to catch up with the competitor, who had had four hours’ 
start of me. It was through a rough country road, through 
what is called Sandy Post Oak land. Some parts of the 


— 55 — 


road had been newly cut out, and the stumps of the cut 1 
down trees were still in the road. Presently the fore wheel 
of the wagon ran against and over one of the stumps, and 
created such a jolt that I was lifted from my seat on the 
trunk, over the wheel, and landed with both hands on 
top of the stump. My hands immediately began to swell 
to triple their ordinary size. They pained me, and I could 
not tell whether or not I had sprained my wrists, but I 
had no time to give it much thought then. On we drove 
in a mad, Ben Hur race, and finally brought up in front 
of the store of Mr. Chas. Koerth, at Antioch Postoffice. 
There was Mr. Rosenfield’s wagon and team hitched to 
a tree, and Mr. Rosenfield’s trunks were inside the store 
and the samples already unpacked. I first told Mr. Koerth 
about the mishap with my hands, and he acted the good 
Samaritan by soaking some brown paper in vinegar and 
tying the soaked brown paper tightly with cord over my 
swelled hands. In a short time the swelling disappeared 
and my hands were as good as ever. Then commenced 
the war against Rosenfield. Koerth informed me that 
he had looked over Rosenfield’s samples and found 
his goods a great deal cheaper than those he had bought 
from me the season previous, when I claimed to have 
given him reduced prices (which I did). He especially 
dwelt on a cheap chinchilla overcoat which I had sold to 
him some months before at $7.50. My house’s price was 
$8.50 (Mr. Rosenfield was offering it to him at $5.00). I 
told him such practices were not uncommon with a mean 
competitor, who would stop at nothing trying to destroy my 

— 56 — 


customer’s confidence, and would offer him a bait, fully 
intending to make up the price difference on the next 
article. Mr. Koerth replied that no such thing had been 
done by Rosenfield. Rosenfield had shown him his order 
book from beginning to end, and had convinced him that 
the price of the overcoat was $5.00 to every customer, 
hurthermore, Rosenfield had given him the price mark, in 
which his sales tickets were marked and had assured him 
that he had only one price on his merchandise. Then Mr. 
Koerth invited me to enter the fray on a fair basis, to open 
my samples on the other long counter in the store, to give 
him my selling mark, then he asked both myself and 
Rosenfield to walk out of the store, and that he would ex¬ 
amine and compare both of our lines, and form his own 
judgment as to the merits of either line. About a half 
hour later he called us both back and informed me that 
I was not in it and that Rosenfield was elected to sell 
the bill. Imagine how I felt, after all the trouble I had 
gone to in order to save a customer. 

This was not the worst of it. I felt that there was no 
use in battling with Rosenfield any more, that he was 
sure to carry off victory whenever we showed goods to¬ 
gether. 

There is a little sequence to the story about the trouble 
I had with the cowboy from Gonzales. When I came 
to the town of Gonzales again, I met Blake, the livery man 
from whom I hired that team of four horses. I asked 
him if he had received my check; he had; and I also asked 
him what he thought of the behavior of that cowboy. He 

— 57 — 


said he disapproved of it very much and had discharged 
him long ago. Blake, when sober, was a nice fellow, but 
that was only in the very early morning hours. During 
the day he was busy tanking up at the different bars, and 
by afternoon he had worked himself into a dangerous 
condition. I met him again in the afternoon; he stopped 
me and asked if I knew what had become of a certain 
traveling man representing a Galveston grocery house and 
whose name he could not just then recollect. He told me 
that the man owed him a bill and thought that perhaps I 
could help him locate the man. He invited me to step into the 
office of his livery stable, as he was going to look over 
his books to find the name of the man who owed him a 
bill. I followed/ and had barely entered the stable when 
Blake closed the door on me, seized my by the throat, 
pushed me into an empty stall and threatened to kill me 
unless I paid him $10.00 more for that last trip. This 
was a surprise to me, but I absolutely refused to give up 
one penny. He choked me a little more and pulled my 
hair, but, being an active little fellow and he a stout man, 
I managed to wrestle away from him, ran for the door, 
which fortunately was not locked, and made straight for 
the court house, where court was in session. The sheriff 
of the county, Captain Jones, was a friend of mine, and 
I told him what Blake had done to me. Captain Jones 
immediately brought me into the presence of City Attor¬ 
ney Harwood, to whom I repeated the story. Mr. Har¬ 
wood promptly issued an order to Sheriff Jones for the 
arrest of Blake. Blake was brought into court, before 

— 58 — 


Judge Fly, and I again stated my case before the Court. 

Blake was asked if he had any defense to make. “Your 
Honor,” he said to the Judge, “this young man was some¬ 
what impudent to me and I merely tried to correct him.” 

“Well,” the Judge said, “if there are any corrections 
to be made, we have the laws and the courts for that pur¬ 
pose ; you had no business to .take the law into your own 
hands. In the meantime, do you plead guilty or not?” 

Blake concluded to plead guilty. 

Then I wanted to show my magnanimity and addressed 
the Court as follows: 

“Your Honor, Blake and myself heretofore have always 
been friends and never had a misunderstanding. I cannot 
account for his ill temper today. If it pleases the Court, 
I wish to ask that the lowest possible fine is imposed on 
Blake.” The fine was $5.00, costs $8.00, total $13.00. This 
closed the case, excepting that when Blake and myself 
met in the corridor of the court house he asked me whether 
I was going to pay that fine or himself. I said, “Blake, I 
know that you are drunk, but I did not take you to be 
crazy. Of course, you will pay the fine after I took such 
treatment as you gave me.” 

He said that I would regret my decision. That same 
day I had to return from Gonzales to the nearest railroad 
station, fourteen miles distant, the station of Harwood, on 
the Southern Pacific Railroad. I had already spoken to 
Blake for a team in the morning, and he insisted that I 
must take the team which I had hired. I did so, but, before 


— 59 — 


leaving the town I saw Captain Jones again and begged 
him to keep his eyes on the drunken Blake. 

He promised no harm would come to me, but on the 
way to Harwood I often looked around to see if Blake was 
not following me on horseback, but nothing unusual hap¬ 
pened. 

Some years later I learned that Blake, who had married 
into a nice and wealthy family, had died a drunkard’s 
death and had been found dead in a gutter. Thus perish 
all traitors. 

On one of my trips for the Galveston house I met a 
competitor who was a nephew of the head of the then 
most prominent clothing manufacturing house in New 
York, a house of great reputation for strict integrity and 
good merchandise. 

I will call this gentleman Mr. N. He did not relish 
traveling in southwestern Texas; he was looking for a 
reliable salesman and, having taken a fancy to me, he told 
me he could get me a position with his house at any time 
I wanted it. I had then been with the Galveston house 
about three years. In the meantime, my cousin, at the 
age of forty-two years, had died. His untimely death 
will always be sincerely mourned by me. The business 
was continued by his two partners (one of them a brother- 
in-law), and the widow of my cousin retained her interest in 
the business. 

The two partners, while good workers, lacked the busi¬ 
ness sagacity and financing ability of my lamented cousin. 
One day the bookkeeper, who used to favor me with bor- 


— 60 — 


rowing small sums from me frequently, out of gratitude 
gave me a hint that the concern was not very strong and 
sometimes “quite hard up ” 


I had let the savings from my salary accumulate and had 
left same standing to my credit on the books of the firm, 
who paid me no interest. Towards the end of my fourth 
year these savings had reached the sum of $4,500.00. I 
thought, “a hint to the wise,” etc., and one day asked the 
member of the firm who managed the office to buy me 
German exchange for the largest part of the amount due 
me and to remit the same to my father. I gave him this 
explanation, that I had a sister in Germany of a marriage¬ 
able age, and that this money was intended for her dowry, 
which really was true. 

About six months before I left the Galveston house my 
youngest brother had come from Germany to Galveston, 
and the house gave him a position as a stock clerk. He 
was only sixteen, but bright, fresh and independent. This 
brother, who in later years developed into a fine salesman, 
was a born fighter, and in an argument with another stock 
clerk in the Galveston house he made his argument con¬ 
vincing by literally pounding it into the other fellow. 


The firm would not stand for it and gave my brother 
his walking papers, but the young fellow found another 
place as a clerk arid was always able to take care of him¬ 
self. 


When I returned from my last trip which I made for 
the Galveston house I was sorry to learn that my brother 
had been, dismissed and had left Galveston. Another sales- 


— 61 — 


man in the house, whom I thought to be a friend, asked 
me why the house had discharged my brother. I told 
him that my brother had been fighting with another clerk. 
My “supposed” friend, Loeb, who was a very “nosy” fel¬ 
low (in more than one sense of the word), could not 
believe that the firm would let the boy go for a little thing 
like that, and kept quizzing me. I thought I was talking 
to a confidential friend and expressed the opinion that, 
perhaps, the dismissal of my brother meant a slap at me, • 
because I had taken away the money I had standing with 
the house. - *j 

Right here, for any one in need of advice, I wish to 
remark that, in all walks of life, it is best “to keep one’s ; 
own key and counsel.” “Nosy” Loeb, Mephisto-like, con- ; 
ceived the idea to use my confidences for the purpose of | 
making himself solid with the house. 

A few hours later one of the partners summoned me into : 
the office, confronted me with Loeb and the question: “Did . 
we ever ask you to leave any money on deposit with us ? 1 
How dare you insinuate that we dismissed your brother 
from our employ in retaliation of your withdrawing from 
us an insignificant sum of money?” There could be no 
defense on my part, and when my interlocutor added a 
-few insulting remarks, I picked up an (empty) inkstand, 
threw it at him, but in my excitement failed to hit him. 

I then demanded the balance due me, got it, and quit 
on the spot. 

There I was, disgraced, half sick, without position, and, 
as it appeared to me then, without friends. I went to my 

— 62 — 



boarding house, sat in my room and brooded a long while. 
I was even contemplating to go and listen to “what the 
wild waves were saying” at the Galveston beach, and to 
let them luie me so far from shore that I might not come 

back. 

The door of my room was half open; a fellow boarder, 
a fine German bookkeeper, by the name of Specht, of a 
kindly disposition, noticed me sitting in my room, abso¬ 
lutely dejected. He asked me what was the matter, and 
I told him my hard-luck story and the conclusion I had 
arrived at. He immediately appealed to my pride, my 
manhood and several other hidden qualities, and stirred 
me up to revenge myself on the Galveston house by get¬ 
ting a better house and becoming a dangerous competitor 
of theirs. 

My drooping spirits revived under his stirring address. 
I concluded that “the world was still mine,” and sent a 
telegram to the New York house whose nephew had 
offered me a position the year previous. An answer 
came promptly, asking me to come to New York for mak¬ 
ing arrangements. They were made on the commission 
basis, myself paying all traveling expenses, but I had the 
determination to make good, even though I was handi¬ 
capped, inasmuch as the best portion of Texas was the 
territory of another salesman who had been with the house 
for some years and was a “big man” every way. 

For me there was only left what he did not want and 
could not cover. 

The entire annual business done by the nephew in the 


— 63 — 


territory assigned to me did 'not exceed $10,000. I reached 
the first year over $60,000. But how I did work. My ordi¬ 
nary weight was then 125 pounds. After a three months’ 
campaign in 1883 I had lost over twenty-five pounds of 
my weight. The first trip netted me $600.00. (I did much 
team traveling, which ran expenses up to over 4 per cent 
of the 7y 2 per cent I was getting.) 

I took these $600.00 and made a trip to Germany with 
it, to visit my parents, whom I had not seen then for five 
years. Under my mother’s care I soon recovered the 
twenty-five pounds weight which I had lost, and came back 
to New York in good physical condition and ready for the 
fray. I remained with the New York house for over ten 
years, gradually working up my sales to over $125,000 
annually, and towards the end enjoying a guaranteed salary 

of $4,000.00. 

I had also succeeded in placing my younger brother with 
the house, staked him with expense money for the first 
trip, and he made good from the start. He is today con¬ 
nected with a prominent wholesale clothing house in Dallas, 
Texas. 

Texas was then (and is still) nearly' altogether an agri¬ 
cultural state, where business depends on the uncertainty 
of the cotton crop. 

Too small a crop will injure business; too large a crop 
was then depressing the price of cotton, and business got 
poor. In the last year (1891), while I traveled for the 
New York house, the cotton crop fell short, many of my 
orders were cancelled, which reduced my sales from $125,- 


— 64 — 


000.00 to about $85,000.00. The house made no allow¬ 
ance for conditions and wanted to reduce my salary 
$1,000.00. I would not stand for it and went with a good 
house in Cincinnati, for whom I traveled four years, until 
1895. 

I must speak yet of an endurance test on one of my 
trips for the New York house, in 1885. One of my best 
friends and one of the most amiable and capable merchants 
I met in all my career was Mr. Fred Piper of Uvalde, 
Texas. He suggested to me to call on Mr. Chas. Schreiner, 
a big merchant, trader and banker at Kerrville, Texas, 
rated over a million dollars. 

Kerrville was seventy-five miles from the nearest rail¬ 
road point, and a regular stage route was established be¬ 
tween Kerrville and San Antonio, Texas. 

I had to stop at Hondo City, fifty miles west of San 
Antonio. I looked at the map and figured that it was as 
near from Hondo to Kerrville as it was from San Antonio. 

At Hondo I heard of an old Irishman named Campbell, 
who had come to Hondo while helping to build the South¬ 
ern Pacific Railroad. He was the owner of a wagon and 
a good big pair of mules. I made arrangements with Camp¬ 
bell to take me and my six sample trunks from Hondo 
City to Kerrville. It never occurred to us that it might 
be a difficult undertaking, since no wagons ever traveled, 
that way. 

We left Hondo about 6 a. m., traveled until 2 p. m-.. 
before catching sight of any human habitation, when we 
arrived at an abandoned country store, where Mr. Rolf 


— 65 — 


Frericks, formerly storekeeper, then ranchman, lived. We] 
asked for something to eat, but could only obtain a loaf 
of home-made bread, and that and a canteen of water 
formed our banquet. We traveled on until dark, never 
found another habitation that day; finally staked out the 
mules to graze and retired into the “prairie schooner” (cov¬ 
ered wagon), trying to sleep the “sleep of the just” on 
our trunks. 

Towards morning I awoke; rain was dripping through 
the wagon cover. When I asked Campbell, “What’s the 
matter with your wagon sheet?” he replied, with his Irish 
wit: “Nothing, sor, only it is more holy than righteous.”] 
I got out and finished my nap on the grass under the wagon 
bed. When daylight came on we hitched up our mules 
and drove on until about 7 a. m., when we reached a sheep- ! 
man’s camp. Mr. Oliver Bryant and his son, who lodged 
in a hammock during the night and owned a 10x10 log ; 
cabin, where they kept their groceries, flour, guns, etc., \ 
were just preparing breakfast. We were famished. Bryant, 
with the universal • Southern spirit of hospitality, invited 
us to the breakfast. It consisted of fried eggs and fried : 
goat meat, to which we helped ourselves by fishing chunks 
out of the frying pan with our pocketknives (plates, 
knives, forks and spoons seemed to be articles with which 
the Bryants had dispensed, as it saved dishwashing). Each 
of us had his turn at the one tin cup, from which we 
drank good black coffee. We wound up the feast with 
a “hoe cake” from the ashes. Fortified against new adven¬ 
tures, we traveled on, thanking our hosts (they would not 


accept any pay). I sincerely regretted to hear, a year 
later, that Mr. Bryant by mistake had put his own brand 
on some neighbors' sheep, and was hung for this mistake. 

We next reached the town of Bandera, where I sold 
some goods, but the credit man did not pass favorably on 
the account. On the evening of the third day I landed 
at Kerrville. I immediately called <pn Mr. Schreiner, told 
him that his friend and my customer, Mr. Piper, had urged 
me to call on him, told him of my house. Pie had heard 
of it very favorably, but it was too early for him to buy 
fall goods in May. Nevertheless, he instructed his cloth¬ 
ing man to look over my samples. The man reported 
favorably on same. 

Then Mr. Schreiner looked them over, liked them, and 
said he would buy if I returned in August. Imagine how 
I felt, consuming nearly a week, traveling through a wilder¬ 
ness and having only expense and no orders to show for it. 

It seemed to me that my very life depended on getting 
Mr. Schreiner’s order. I . pictured to him the hardship I 
had undergone to visit him, the time consumed without 
result; finally made the argument, since my merchandise 
and prices were satisfactory, it could only be a question 
of perhaps 2 per cent interest, which he might save by 
buying the goods later, and these 2 per cent extra discount 
I was willing to allow. 

Mr. Schreiner finally placed an order for $3,000.00, com¬ 
plimented me on my perseverance and also on my honesty, 
because, he said, I did not find you to vary on your prices, 
and I priced your line three times. I asked him how he 
could remember prices so well. Then he showed me that 
he had by close watching made out my selling mark. . 

— 67 — 


CHAPTER IX. 


I Start in the Skirt Manufacturing Business in Chicago 

I believe I have related a sufficient number of incidents 
in my career as a traveling salesman in Texas to refrain 
from telling any more. Besides, I fear that if I mentioned 
too many of them I may weary the reader. Therefore I 
am going to tell that, after having married, in 1889, and 
finding it very unpleasant to be away from my wife and 
babies for months at a time, I felt a longing to be in busi¬ 
ness on my own account. I did not realize then that by 
going into business on my own account I was going to 
multiply the troubles that I had before. The reader will 
remember, that I was in the clothing business for fifteen 
years, but, as it happened, I got started in the skirt manu¬ 
facturing business in Chicago in 1894. It happened this 
way: I had a brother-in-law who was really nothing more 
than a skirt cutter, but he represented himself to me as 
a skirt designer. Woe unto the day when I took his word 
for it. I returned one day from a trip in Texas and found 
my brother-in-law out of employment and in a rather de¬ 
spondent mood. I talked to him for a little while and 
then advised him, instead of hunting a job, to go into busi¬ 
ness for himself. He said that would be all right if I had 
any money to go into business with. I volunteered to fur- 


—G8— 


nish the money for a start. He generously accepted my 
offer, and this is how the firm of Samson & Jacobs was 
launched into the commercial world. 

I had very little faith in the success of the new firm and 
thought it best to retain my position as a clothing salesman 
in Texas for such length of time until my brother-in-law 
was able to demonstrate to me that the firm of Samson 
& Jacobs might have a chance for success. I put $1,000.00 
on deposit with a leading bank to the credit of Samson & 
Jacobs and started out on another trip to Texas. 

When I returned from Texas, three months later, and 
investigated the success of the new firm, I found that my 
brother-in-law, with his sole unaided efforts, had managed 
to clear in the skirt business (which in those days was in its 
infancy) $200.00 per month. I thought if one man alone 
could make that much, two men ought to be able to double 
it and I concluded to wind up my travelling career in Texas 
and to devote my entire energy to the skirt business. We 
had started our business in two rooms in a top flat of a 
building on West Madison Street. Our expenses were very 
small and, while the business was not developed, I could 
see that it could be made to go. We moved into the down¬ 
town wholesale district and rented a loft 25x100 where 
we continued to increase the business. Gradually it grew 
to $100,000.00 business. Our factory space became too 
small, we moved to larger quarters, which, after two years, 
we had to abandon because the entire building was rented 
by a large cloak manufacturing concern. We moved to 
another location in close proximity and we still continued 


—69— 


to grow. I was aggressive, reached out for trade all over 
and finally had worked up a business to $185,000.00 sales 
per year, which was quite a good deal considering that our 
entire investment in the business was only about $20,000.00. 
Our business was done partly by commission salesmen who 
carried our line as a side line and principally by myself. 
In 1902 I felt a longing to see my old mother in Germany 
(my father had died about 17 years before). I thought I 
could afford to permit myself the luxury of a two months 
vacation and went to Germany. Before leaving Chicago, 
I made arrangements with the bank we were dealing with 
for such credit as they would grant us. I must remark that 
we only manufactured a part of our goods, while the larger 
part of what we sold consisted of goods which we jobbed 
from New York manufacturers and which we bought on 
close margins and sold on long terms. I returned from 
my trip to Germany towards the end of August, 1902, and 
when I arrived at my hotel in New York, where I was in 
the habit of stopping, I found a letter from my partner in¬ 
forming me that the limit of our credit had been exhausted 
at our bank and that it Would be necessary for me to 
procure an additional six or seven thousand dollars to 
satisfy the small New York manufacturers of whom we 
had bought goods on short terms. My partner urged me 
not to leave New York (no matter how anxious I was to 
get home to my family), before securing another loan of 
about $7,000.00. My name was not promiscuous in those 
days in Wall Street circles (nor is it today) and I really did 
not know whether I should apply to Mr. J. Pierpont 
Morgan or to Kuhn Loeb & Co., for this loan. I finally con- 

— 70 — 


eluded that probably neither one of them would care to 
finance the firm of Samson & Jacobs. I inquired of some 
friends whether they could loan me six or seven thousand 
dollars for 60 days. I found two of them willing to trust 
me to the extent of $3,000.00 and $3,500.00. I insisted on 
their accepting such security as I could offer, consisting of 
one paid up and one nearly paid up life insurance policy for 
$5,000.00 each. I returned home with the happy conscious¬ 
ness of having accomplished the mission imposed upon me 
by my partner. When I reached home I found that the firm 
owed in the neighborhood of $65,000.00. I strained every 
nerve and all the energy at my command to discharge my 
liabilities promptly to the day and as they fell due and suc¬ 
ceeded in doing so, but when we took inventory on a succeed¬ 
ing New Year’s day, 1903, I ascertained that, notwith¬ 
standing our sales of $185,000.00, no profits had been 
realized on the business but, on the contrary, we faced a 
loss of about $5,000.00. 

The reader can imagine that such a result on a $185,000.00 
business was not conducive to making me feel cheerful. 
I came to the conclusion that I might do as well by doing 
less business or no business at all. I inaugurated a new 
policy in my business. I decided to sell nothing but the 
goods manufactured in my own factory, and to keep away 
from New York kikes, who were always clamoring for their 
money, and for whose trashy merchandise I risked my own 
good and fair reputation and we commenced to sell skirts 
only. 

Now here I want to warn anybody who takes the trouble 
of reading this story, against the serious mistake which 

— 71 — 


I made as the financier of the business. I had paid up 
the ten thousand dollars which I owed to my bank 
promptly, without a day’s grace, I owed nothing to my bank. 
On the contrary, I had a fair balance. Had I been wise 
I should have redeemed the life insurance policies which 
I had left as a collateral with my New York friends of 
whom I borrowed $6,500.00. I could very well have owed 
my bank that amount and could again have been the legi¬ 
timate possessor of those Life Insurance policies. My 
friends seemed to be in no hurry about having me return 
their money and thoughtlessly I gloried in the fact that 
not only was I not indebted to my bank, but on the contrary I 
had $5,000.00 balance to my credit there. 

We did business from January 1903 until about middle of 
July of that year, in a conservative way, holding our own, 
gaining a little, yet we had not recovered the loss of the 
previous year. I was facing the reality that towards 
September 1st, I had to meet liabilities of over ten thousand 
dollars, with the American Woolen Co. of New York. 
Realizing that the cash balance would be consumed within 
a month by current expenses, pay rolls for labor, etc., etc., 
that all my outstandings were not due or collectable prior 
to November 10th, I went to my bank to arrange for 
a new loan. The banker inquired about my financial pro¬ 
gress, asked if I had taken inventory lately. I told him 
I had as it was an invariable rule with me to take a semi¬ 
annual inventory. He asked me to furnish him with a copy 
of the latest inventory, which I did. Having the misfortune 
of not being able to tell anything but the truth, I concealed 
— 72 — 


nothing from my banker. I made him acquainted with the 
fact that, during the year preceding, I had sustained a finan¬ 
cial loss of about five thousand dollars. He said: “This 
doesn’t look very good, does it?” I replied “it does not, 
and you cannot possibly feel half as bad about it as I do. 
But I am going to make up for it.” He inquired how much 
of a discount would be sufficient; I told him about five or 
six thousand dollars would carry me through. He thought 
at the time that there would be no trouble in getting it,, 
and at the same time mentioned to me that from.what in¬ 
formation he possessed, the Cloak and Suit industry in Chi¬ 
cago, at that time, was not in a very prosperous condition 
(nor is it today). That he had just sustained a loss of 
$2,500.00 on a certain cloak manufacturer who, by the way,, 
swelled his liabilities by bringing into the Federal Court 
notes given to an uncle, to a father-in-law, to a mother-in- 
law and to a brother-in-law on which the ink had not yet 
dried, notwithstanding that the date of his notes were about 
a year old. I told my banker that I seriously objected to 
being put into the same class with that kind of a man. He 
did acknowledge that I ranked a little higher in the moral 
and commercial world, and said “I will have to talk this 
matter over with my brother, and you will hear from me 
within a day or two.” The following day my banker called 
me up on the telephone (evidently he did not have the 
heart to tell me to my face) that himself and his brother 
had come to the conclusion that, as long as I had a balance 
of $5,000.00 in their bank, and was not owing anything 
for any discounts, they considered that I was a customer in 
fair shape, and that they preferred to leave me in this fair 
shape. 


— 73 — 




There, I was turned down by the bank that I had done 
all my business with for eight years, and with which I 
had met all my obligations promptly and without a day’s 
grace. Any available collateral on which I might of raised 
money, was pledged. All my outstandings were not due 
for ninety days. Ten thousand dollars’ worth of liabilities, 
due within two weeks, stared me in the face. What could 
I do? I knew my business was amply solvent; $43,000.00 
of good assets seemed to be ample to cover a total indebt¬ 
edness of $17,000.00. And yet my assets were not currency. 
My brains became clouded. My mind became worried; 
I had to have a confident; I talked to a man whom I con¬ 
sidered a good friend, and who was at that time holding 
a prominent position with one of the oldest and leading 
State Street stores of Chicago. I never dreamed that 
he could be a traitor. I told him that I was principally 
concerned about raising enough money to redeem the Life 
Insurance policies which I had pledged as security' for 
the loans which I had accepted from friends and told him 
of the necessity to raise six thousand dollars cash, be¬ 
cause I considered that those Life Insurance policies had 
really nothing to do with the business, and were the in¬ 
violable property of my wife and children. He volunteered 
to buy enough staple goods from me, at cost price, to 
realize the necessary sum for my purpose, which he did. 


— 74 — 


CHAPTER X. 


I Fall into the Hands of Unscrupulous Chicago Lawyers. 

At the same time, he advised me to see a lawyer (woe unto 
the day when I did) named Herman Frank, who was in 
the employe of the firm of Felsenthal & Foreman (I mean 
the very honorable Alderman Milton Foreman, also Colonel 
of the First Illinois Cavalry, and while the onus of my 
accusations against that firm does not fall on Mr. Foreman, 
still I wonder today how a man of his intelligence can be 
associated with a man like Felsenthal), I called on this law 
firm for the purpose of submitting to them my financial con¬ 
dition and for the purpose of having them issue, from their 
office, a circular letter to all my creditors, .setting forth my 
financial condition, and requesting an extension of thirty 
days, which would have been all that was required to get me 
out of all my troubles. Mr. Frank opposed this idea 
strenuously, said that I should not cross any bridges until 
1 I came to them; that I should not alarm my creditors before 
they became alarmed; asked me if I had any past due lia¬ 
bilities, which I had not. In fact, none were due; wanted 
to know the names of my creditors; foolishly I left a list 
of same with him. And now I am going to describe a piece 
of the biggest rescality ever perpetrated on any human 
being by a firm of so-called reputable lawyers in Chicago. 

— 75 — 





The first inquiry acrdressed to me by Mr. Herman Frank 
was like this: “In case any trouble should arise, and you 
might have to go into bankruptcy, how much do you want 
for yourself out of this business?” (Isn’t that question 
calculated to keep any lawyer’s client strictly in the straight 
and narrow path of honesty?) I replied “I want nothing 
out of it for myself; all I care for is to pay every penny I 
owe to my creditors, and above all, to pay all confidential 
debts.” Besides the Life Insurance policies mentioned 
heretofore, which were used for collateral on a loan, I 
borrowed an additional two thousand dollars from other 
friends. Mr. Frank told me to be of good cheer and not 
to trouble trouble until trouble troubled me. In the mean¬ 
time, the friend whom I mentioned before, was working his 
intrigues to bring about my downfall. He managed to 
inform a leading law firm in the City, who represented the 
interests of the American Woolen Company, and' several 
leading commission houses of New York, that the firm of 
Samson & Jacobs was in a shaky condition, and that it would 
be advisable to watch us, which no doubt they did. At 
least a subsequent development showed they were fully 
aware that we had sold quite a quantity of merchandise to 
the Boston Store. While each and every one of our trans¬ 
actions could bear the strongest search light of investigation, 
still, the fact that we were selling largely to the Boston 
Store, laid us open to suspicion. 

I consulted Mr. Frank several times, and he came out 
with the request for a retainer fee of $500.00, which I paid 
to him in currency. At one of our conferences he informed 


- 76 - 


me that it had come to his knowledge that the law firm of 
Moses, Rosenthal & Kennedy was shadowing all our trans¬ 
actions, and that he had no doubt but that they contemplated 
filing a petition in bankruptcy against my concern. That, 
furthermore, he thought it would be to our best interests if 
such a petition was unavoidable, that he—Mr. Frank—in be¬ 
half of Felsenthal & Foreman, should file such a petition 
before Moses, Rosenthal & Kennedy could do so. He ex¬ 
plained that if his firm could be made attorneys for the 
Receiver we would have a friendly Receiver to deal with; 
and, in a moment of weak-mindedness he obtained from me 
the consent to file the petition. He then told me that, while 
officially he could no longer represent my interests, nominally 
he would still continue to do so by giving the case into the 
hands of a young lawyer who had formerly been in the 
employ of Felsenthal & Foreman. It wasn’t many hours 
before the Chicago Title & Trust Co., professional receivers, 
had hold of the business. A few days later the first hear¬ 
ing took place in the United States Court, Mr. Eastman 
being referee. 

Before the hearing took place Mr. Frank tried to coach 
me. My troubles had preyed so heavily on my mind that 
I was a willing tool for any of his Machiavellian schemes. 
He first told me that, most likely, the examination 
before the referee, would be conducted by Mr. Julius Moses, 
as he represented creditors to whom I owed the largest part 
of my indebtedness. He also told me that, being lawyers, 
and being onto all schemes of lawyers. Moses. Rosenthal & 
Kennedy would likely suspicion that Felsenthal & Foreman 
had filed a petition in Bankruptcy with my knowledge and 
consent. 


— 77 — 


Mr. Frank urged of me particularity that, when the ques¬ 
tion would be addressed to me: “Have you ever met Mr. 
Felsenthal, or Mr. Frank,” I must answer “No.” Taking it 
for granted that a lawyer knew better than I did what the 
laws permit and do not permit, I followed instructions. 
After having been put on the stand and being duty sworn, 
I lost sight of the fact that by obeying the instructions of 
Mr. Frank, I was telling a lie. It was not until some 
time afterwards that I realized what had been the purpose 
of these schemers, to commit subornation*of perjury, and to 
make a perjurer of me. They wanted to cut off for me, 
all chance for getting back at them. On my own testimony 
they had me dead to rights for perjury. Examination be¬ 
fore the Referee did not take a greal deal of time; my 
books were perfectly balanced, every entry could be fully 
explained and the Chicago Title & Trust Co., professional 
Receivers, put a custodian into my place of business by the 
name of Henderson. From sheer force of habit, and you 
might say from heart ache, at my business being broken up, 
I called every day and once came across a transaction on the 
part of the custodian which I managed to nip in the bud. 
He was just about to send out a case of the most valuable 
silks, satins and dress goods in the place, down the freight 
elevator, when I stopped it. In our office and sample room, 
we had two large size rugs, which, only two months before, 
we had bought of Mandel Bros., at $35.00 apiece. For some 
purpose or other, these two rugs were put down in the 
appraisement of stock at $3.50 each. I missed them one day 
and inquired what had become of them; then I was in¬ 
formed that one of the officers of the Chicago Title & 


— 78 — 


Trust Co. had these two rugs sent to his own home and 
would pay the appraised valuation of $7.00 for the two. 

The Receiver, the attorney for the Receiver, the custo¬ 
dian prolonged their fat job as long as they possibly could. 
I was closed up in August—August 23, 1903, it was in the 
height of the season for the sale of Ladies’ and Children’s 
garments; they were in demand; they could have been sold 
at full value at the time, but nothing was done with my 
stock of merchandise by the Receivers until towards the 
end of October, when the best time for selling goods had 
elapsed. The stock of $23,000 was sold at an auction, pre¬ 
sided over by the renowned Air. Samuel Winternitz, and 
netted, after Mr. Winternitz got his part out of it, $7,600.00. 
I must remark here that, several weeks before the auction 
took place, a friend of mine and my partner’s offered to 
come to our aid and to advance the money to purchase the 
stock for us. We authorized him to offer $12,000.00 and he 
offered to the Referee in Bankruptcy a certified check for 
$1,000 to make his offer binding. The Referee had to 
consult with the Receivers, and the Receivers reported to 
him that the Auctioneer calculated to realize at least $15,- 
000.00. No guarantee or security was asked of Mr. Winter¬ 
nitz, and, as I said before, $7,600.00 is all he realized. 
Would any one call that a deliberate depreciation of assets ? 

A few days before I fell into the hands of the Receivers 
I had sent out numerous statements and frantic appeals to 
my customers, setting forth to them, in detail, my finan¬ 
cial straits and asking them to come to my rescue, even at the 
sacrifice of two or three per cent extra discount on my part. 
The answers to these appeals fell into the hands of the 


- 79 — 


Attorney for the Receiver, Mr. Frank, and within one week, 
after the Receiver had been appointed, $8,200.00 cash, were 
collected. Besides this, there was still in the bank a cash 
balance of $1,628.00 making a total of cash on hand of 
$9,828.00, which could immediately have been applied to¬ 
wards a large part-payment of our total indebtedness of only 
$17,000.00. But this money remained in the hands of the 
Receiver until the following March. I felt it my duty to 
give my entire time and knowledge of the business to accom¬ 
plish the best realization possible of all assets, as it was 
my desire that all creditors should be paid in full, and, as 
I knew that double the amount of assets was on hand, 
as compared with liabilities, I called on the attorney for 
the Receiver daily, for information as to what outstandings 
had been collected, and to make suggestions, and even to 
write personal letters to some slow paying customers in 
order to get in all the outstandings. One day, I was check¬ 
ing up the list of outstandings with the attorney for the 
Receiver, when I had to wonder that a number of accounts, 
which I knew to be good, had not been paid up. I took 
a list of the names, wrote to each of these accounts a per¬ 
sonal letter and, in due course of mail, received a reply 
that their accounts had been paid to the Receiver, and 
that they held the Receiver’s receipts for the same. The 
discrepancy was in the neighborhood of $2,800.00. When 
I confronted the attorney for the Receiver with the undis- 
putable evidence in my hands, he scratched his head and 
explained that some of the checks, by accident, must have 
become mixed up with his own checks, and had probably 
been deposited to the credit of the savings account of Mrs. 
Clara Frank. What do you think of this? 

By this time I had about all I wanted to convince me of 
the “honesty” (?) of the Receivers and their attorneys, 
notwithstanding the fact that I had paid the attorneys for 
the Receiver (before they become attorneys for the Re- 

— 80 — 


ceiver), a retainer fee of $500.00 (I subsequently ascertained 
in a conversation, that the man Frank only handed over 
$250.00 of this to Felsenthal & Foreman, and had applied the 
other $250.00 for his own personal use; nice law office, 
wasn’t it ?) I concluded to try to find some honest lawyers, 
if they could be found in Chicago. I engaged the services of 
Ringer, Wilhartz & Louer to take charge of my affairs, and 
while I do not begrudge the fee that they collected, it was, 
at the wind-up, another $600.00. They made the attorney 
for the Receiver separate the checks belonging to my credi¬ 
tors, from his wife’s savings account. In other words, they 
made him disgorge. 

Another meeting of creditors was held in January; there 
was at that time, in the hands of the Receiver, cash equal 
to 70 per cent of our indebtedness; there were still $3,200— 
uncollected outstandings. I offered, for these, in court 
$1,000, which I borrowed from a brother; with this addi¬ 
tional $1,000, we obtained a composition with our creditors 
at 75 cents on the dollar. 

It only remains for me to add, that the total cost of court, 
referee, stenographers, attorneys and Receivers, on an in¬ 
debtedness of $17,000.00 ran up to a total of $6,500.00. 
Let me ask the reader: “Is the Bankruptcy law, when ad¬ 
ministered as it was in my case, beneficial to this country, 
or to creditors rather? Is it not a menace to public safety 
and public morals, that such lawyers as I had dealings with 
(I mean the attorneys for the Receiver) are permitted 
to run at large, and ply their nefarious vocation on other 
helpless victims? 

I also must add that, being well aware of the irretrievable 
mistake which I had made, when giving my testimony be¬ 
fore the referee, I contented myself to wait five years, 
when my unpremeditated offence was condoned by the Stat¬ 
ute of limitation. I was hungry for justice, and I thought 
that I must make every effort to get it. I set forth my entire 


—81 — 


case, with minute detail, and accompanied by proofs, to the 
prosecuting attorney of the Chicago Bar Association, Mr. 
Fogle, who submitted the matter at a meeting; all the sat¬ 
isfaction I got in return was a letter which had been written 
to the prosecuting attorney by Mr. Felsenthal in answer 
to my accusations. The letter said in substance: That my 
accusations were no more than the laments and wailings 
of a man who had been unsuccessful and who was trying 
to put the blame* for his failure on other people’s shoulders. 
This explanation seemed to satisfy the Chicago Bar Associa¬ 
tion, and was sent to me with the comment that nothing 
could be done for me. I leave it to the fair-minded reader 
to judge whether or not I did get justice at the hands of the 
Chicago Bar Association. 

All this happened some years ago; ever since I have been 
trying to forget my misfortune, and I am still making a 
living for my family and myself as a traveling salesman. 
And I am gratified to wind up with the remark, that I have 
lost none of the respect or good will of my old friends and 
customers. If this little story is instrumental in savijig 
some other traveling man, when he contemplates embarking 
in business for himself, from foundering on the rocks that 
my life was wrecked on, my purpose in writing this story 
is fully accomplished. 

The lesson this story conveys is, That one misstep from 
the path of righteousness can undo a man’s work of a life¬ 
time, and we should always heed the little German poem: 
“Ueb immer Treu und Redlichkeit 
“Bis an Dein stilles Grab; 

“Und weiche keinen Finger breit 
“Von Gottes Wegen ab,” 
which means in free English translation: 

Be honest, truthful, all through life; 

From cradle to the grave. 

For excellence we all must strive 
Courageously and brave. 

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